Oh God,
I am everywhere.
The horrors of partiality.
I don't think I'm dead, though:
I'm in too many pieces for death
to have its effect. Tell Azrael
to look me up in Somme - to ask the specters
which of them mistook a projectile for
a falling star and didn't have
time to make a wish. And wish him
good luck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem