It's raining roses. The angels clap and shout. God Almighty bows and smiles.
A young, inexperienced angel cannot restrain himself. He flaps his wings and shouts: Long live God Almighty. He lives!
The heavens shake with congratulatory shouts, but God Almighty pauses, biting his lip. He is eternal. He smiles and bows.
The archangel Gabriel holds a party, providing the keynote address. He is well-spoken, as usual.
The actors have cleaned themselves up and changed clothes. They are sent for and wipe their eyes with their hands.
God Almighty steps down from his throne, and chummily pats the lead-actor on the shoulder.
You were priceless, he says, humbling himself.
I don't understand, says the actor. Here it is merry and full of joy, but I came from a place of misery.
Yes, you were quite good, say the angels.
I doubt that others could have performed it better, says the archangel Gabríel, and he is knowledgeable about such things.
The actor jerks his head back in laughter.
It was a play, he says and whistles. But tell me one thing, God Almighty. Why is it that we don't know that we are acting?
If you knew, you wouldn't perform. You would sit backstage and watch.
God Almighty said this, and the party continued.
Jón Thoroddsen (1898 - 1924) Iceland
Translated by Christopher Crocker
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