In my thirty-third year, midway upon the course, I found, I began I entered like a curse. Through stones through rocky stars, and the pinions descending. Furiously I awoke. Sad, miserly, my foot on the slope and around me. Ruthless as the sea. Back to where the sun. When I saw him in that vast wilderness, when he advanced, the way into the suffering city—‘You are my master and my author, you—’ When speechless I. And he will hunt that beast through every city. And in the season of the false and lying gods. And the ground, when he advanced, were my words to him: SO DID MY SPIRIT, A FUGITIVE (and I entered) STILL (I moved on behind him), TURN BACK TO LOOK.