to the world of men
i am not yet accustom'd,
the sun was gone:
but i was calm. but if indeed i have lost my face then i will wond round faceless
with ourselves alone;
with ourselves cleave to bone
the fatty flesh of gelatin
is ours to bemoan.
tell them that no others rride to night as the aum comes ssuddenly
i will hide inside
to taste the flame