You who have wronged us with your calumny
wherever you are in your woe, we wish
you far worse than well, up in your aerie
with your wounded wing, down in your diamond mine
without a light, in the dark wide ocean
with only a stick, down a dark street or
your own dark line, hear our laughter, we are
laughing, hear this curse: that the fates prick out
your substance with your own needle and set
a blaze inside your bones with your own fire.

. . .

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