When fishes flew and forests walked and figs grew upon thorn,
Some moments when the moon was blood Then surely I was born;
With monstrous head and sickening cry And ears like errant wings,
the devil's walking parody On all for footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth, of ancient crooked will; Starve,
scourge, deride me: I am dumb, I keep my secret still.
Fools! I also had my hour; One far fierce hour and sweet: There was a shout about my ears, and palms before my feet.
