Translation:The One of a Thousand

The lottery-ticket-vendor who shouts “The One of a Thousand” shares some kind of essence with God.

All the lips pass by. Weariness in a single wrinkle reveals its not-yet. He passes by, this vendor who hoards, perhaps nominal, like God, along with tantalic bread, human impotence of love.

I watch the rag-dressed man. And he could gives us the heart; but that luck that he doles out in his hands, proclaiming loudly, like a cruel bird, will come to a stop where he neither knows nor wants, this Bohemian god.

And I say on this warm Friday overwhelmed by the sun: why would God’s will have clothed itself as a lottery-ticket-vendor!