I go into the dark kitchen
and press the switch.

I sit on the sofa
near the dog.
He turns on his back,
raises his paws and yawns.

In the bedroom
I bend down to my wife.
She smiles in her sleep,
murmurs, dreams again.

Don’t they understand?
Fiery creatures are uttering,
the Angel of Death is in the city,
the altar is crying . . .

and I go from room to room,
night after night,
counting the miracles.