What wealth I have collected
Endowed with the fringes of burned wood,
Decorated with frivolous ornaments,
See I cannot carry the weight of my arms,
The veins have hardened, see I don't breathe.
Thee may not see the blood that has dried,
But haste not through my eyes,
Do they look as they must?
Pause through the haw-thorns of the eye-lids,
Dried dust may not attract thee,
But the modesty of their stay shall seem profound.
Wait if you can, for the dusk to fall,
I shall have the nests infested with the birds.
Wait for the harvest, if you can,
You will hark back to the clothes of a begger-
Torn, arrested, heated in furnace.
Wait for the harvest and you shall see my skin.
See you cannot hang me with a trusted sinew,
Moribund cries must be forgiven of the morass.
You see I have come to a motley crew of sighs,
Where I have my hands stitched to my pockets,
Wait till the skin melts,
You shall see what wealth I have collected.
Wait till the skin melts, and
You shall see what wealth I have collected...
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