Sweet monstrous beings like the automobile moan for you.
Homogenous things, even things purified like carbon, moan for you.
Everything from the first stone your schoolmate threw to the last stone
that will be hurled against you—oh adulterer to be!—
moans for you.
Because of the slimmest and most sufficient reason for your existence
like your fifteen-year-old leg,
because you learned to speak and things are still amazed to hear themselves
repeated in your mouth
because your breast is a little universe in which we can adore God’s roundness.

Translation by Yolanda Blanco and Chris Brandt