Sitting there, right over the abyss,
With the snow hanging down by his head,
His elbows propped on a black crag,
The devil read the big book.
What was written down in there,
Only rams and winds could make out.
Along with pinetrees, and snowfalls,
And ice flying down from above.
Birds drank from his cap.
God shielded him from avalanches.
Thunderbolts pounded the crag
Without touching him once.
He was staring at an empty black page.
Rock-solid, fractured as it was,
The age-old volume had cracks just starting
Vaguely to resemble the letter aleph.
The devil sat staring for thousands of years,
Though he wanted to laugh like a tree,
Whinny with the wind, and like a stream
Plunge right into the open chasm.
(Henrikas Radauskas)
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