Digging a pit as one must, as they say.
I seek in the earth a solace today.
A thrust and a cut — and a worm gives a start:
It trembles below me, breaking my heart.
My spade cuts him through — and a miracle, see:
The worm divided — becomes two, becomes three.
I'm cutting again: they are four, they are five —
Was it I who created all of those lives?