[BNP/E3, 49A1 – 44]

13/6/07

Oh mother Nature let me curse the hand[1]

That made us here each other’s slaves and foes

Let me salute the maker of our woes

Toasting his power with eloquence unbland.

___

{…}

___

After a purpose that no being knows

One that includeth fears and hopes and throes

With subtle evilness sublimely plann’d.

And do we hope that be far when comes evil

Will do us good that[2] he who makes us curse

Existence till we summon up a Devil.

To take the burden of what He made worse?

Will do us good? 

                 Friends I drive in this revel

To him who lulls, or who shall lull, my hearse!

__

Or

I lift my glass to cruse, friend, in this soul  

The Make-Spirit of the universe!

 
[1] Oh mother Nature /mother Mankind\ let me curse the hand /arm\
[2] that /even\