vastgeworteld in de grond, als een half volgroeid struikje
in de harde wintergrond, wachtend op de langste nacht
de eerste vooruitblik naar de warme zomerzon
wanneer de duisternis langzaam, voorzichtig
wordt verdreven door smalend ochtendlicht

A leaf in shadow
Blown gently down darkest path
Dancing with the wind

So I am about to be a free man again, to wander where I please.

I find the prospect nauseating.

I think that tonight is the night I will hang Howard W. Campbell, Jr., for crimes against himself.

I know that tonight is the night.

They say that a hanging man hears gorgeous music. Too bad that I, like my father, unlike my musical mother, am tone-deaf. All the same, I hope that the tune I am about to hear is not Bing Crosby's 'White Christmas.'

Goodbye, cruel world!

Auf wiedersehen?

I must go out,
The fogs are rising.
Do you hear the rain?
Do you hear the rain?
Its falling as i am.
I must go out.