A Forgetful Number

Once upon a time there was a number Pure and round like the sun But alone very much alone It began to reckon with itself It divided multiplied itself It subtracted added itself And remained always alone It stopped reckoning with itself And shut itself up in its round And sunny purity Outside were left the fiery Traces of its reckoning They began to chase each other through the dark To divide when they should have multiplied themselves To subtract when they should have added themselves That's what happens in the dark And there was no one to ask it To stop the traces And to rub them out. Trans. Anne Pennington