When fishes flew and forests walkedAnd figs grew upon thorn,Some moment when the moon was bloodThen surely I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening cryAnd ears like errant wings,The devil’s walking parodyOn all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,Of ancient crooked will;Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;One far fierce hour and sweet:There was a shout about my ears,And palms before my feet.
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