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I stepped into an avalanche |
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It covered up my soul |
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When I am not this hunchback that you see |
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I sleep beneath the golden hill |
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You who wish to conquer pain |
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You must learn to serve me well |
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You strike my side by accident |
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As you go down to your goal |
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This cripple here that you clothe and feed |
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Is neither starved nor cold |
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He does not ask for your company |
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Not at the centre, the centre of the world |
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I who am on a pedestal |
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You did not raise me there |
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Your laws do not compel me now |
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To kneel grotesque and bare |
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For I myself am the pedestal |
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For this ugly hump at which you stare |
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You who wish to conquer pain |
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You must learn what makes me kind |
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The crumbs of love that you offer me |
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Are the crumbs I've left behind |
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Your pain is no credential here |
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It's just a shadow of my wound |
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I have begun to ask for you |
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I who have no greed |
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I have begun to long for you |
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I who have no need |
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You say you've gone away from me |
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But I can feel you when you breathe |
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Do not dress in those rags for me |
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I know you are not poor |
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And do not love me quite so fiercely now |
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When you know that you are not sure |
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It is your turn, my beloved one |
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It is your flesh that I wear |
