nothing else than a talking bloodstain

An angel came and told me:

- You're a cur, a pig,
a mutt and a scum.
The grass stinks under the weight of your shaddow;
your breath is nothing but morass!
- Why, I shouted, why?
- For no reason!
The angel came and told me:
Even glass is more clear
than your most lasting thought!
Soon you'll be dead and maggots
will bustle through your snout and nose!
- Why, I shouted, why?
- For no reason! the angel replied...
Then the angel, oh, the angel, oh, the angel, oh, the angel
flew away with its golden wings
into a golden sky.
Golden butterflies
were flapping in the golden angel's halo.
It was flying drivelling,
made out entirely of gold.
It was drifting towards a golden farness,
where the golden sun was setting.
- Why are you estranging, I shouted,
why are you leaving, why?
- For no reason, it replied, for no reason...

(Nichita Stănescu, Al meu suflet, Psyhée, unlawfully translated by Lucian-A. Blaga, 2014)