There used to be twenty generations within me.
At least.
I cannot tell why but this morning,
Maybe because the window was open,
One of us took a leap from the top floor.

Then, one by one,
Every one of us began to leap off,
As if from a diving-board,
One after the other, like links in a chain,
Embodying the lemming's
Death-instinct.

Half an hour later,
I too was stark naked.
To my shame I too had leapt off.
It seems I died around the fourth floor;
Anyway, around the second,
I was out of the picture.

You are being told this
By a passer-by,
That is, by one of us
Who came out smelling of roses.