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■ The oak
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In me there were twenty generations
To say the least And this morning, I can't tell why, Maybe as the window was open, One jumped from the ledge. Then, all of them Started throwing themselves As if off a trampoline, One after another, in a row, According to the principle of disintegrating Sheep. In half an hour I was left completely naked, And, ashamed, I jumped as well. I think I died around the fourth floor, In any case, by the second, I was gone. All these Are now conveyed to you by a passer-by, That is to say, one of us, Whose fall was broken.
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