Megalophobia combs

I'm in a park where oaks reach up to the sky,
Their crowns crush, whispering: "You are nothing."
I hear the dew rustling in the trunks,
And feel my coat melting.

I see a whale-cloud in the sky,
It floats to devour the horizon.
And somewhere in my thoughts, a list is forgotten—
Buy bread, go to the post office, buy an umbrella.

Here, every leaf is like a secret agreement,
The shadows from the branches break my spine.
But I search my pocket for the contract,
Forgetting why I came into this world.

A glass skyscraper soars upward,
Its melancholy constricts my throat. And I stand there, my brow stupidly raised,
And painfully try to recall the fabric
That I promised to buy my wife yesterday,
While a gigantic scarf of clouds
Blows dust and poplars from the streets,
And drowns the world in the silence of footsteps.

Megalo-fear tells me to lie down and disappear,
But suddenly I remember: "Did I turn off the gas?"
And under the pressure of this petty foolishness
The gigantic world shrinks into a diamond.