Vår herre har flere enn oss å fø på...---Our lord has more than us to feed ...---Notre seigneur a plus que nous nourrir ...---Unser Herr hat mehr als uns zu füttern ...

Spider, cork, pearl
and four more which I won't say:
these are perfect words.
Dying is inevitable.
God is weightless.
A butterfly is always in
   transition,
like soap in a boiling kettle.
God knows these are all strange
   things
that exist in the mind,
corruption exists because of
   original sin.
Words, things I've desired before.
My mind tiers of this sad oration.
My friend said to me:
   "Have you eaten your yogurt?"
What sweetness envelops me,
   what comfort!
Words are imperfect, they exist
   only for...