Who all at once agitato exclaims: O God, what shall I do?
Come at with poisons by inimical beings, chambered locks,
A greedy hundred,
Spun away from freedom,
Allades moved by bells, their grand sonneries, never the space to
question,
His foul predicament reaches, to the ownership of others - which
is a chaos for him.
-Don 't pray to God, says Allades, He 's not on your side,
Already his abhorrence has showed itself, when first He cut you off,
Desperate creature, and creature you are, the imperfect creation of an
imperfect house,
Why ask that God should manumit, since the Author of all has
decided?
The weak, they only suffer,
The nails removed, they drop to unremembered graves,
This world finds its beatitudes inconvenient.
Abruptly, the tolling of the bell, the people released from their
small labour in the fields,
The cattle knowing the path to the byre, starlings to their habitual roost,
And these other beasts tamed by metal regular,
Cover the fire, the curfew bell has come, spear and distaff must part,
Their actions directed by the high invisible,
To sleep and its immature destructions,
Or to journey, find a different day, and tomorrow only a savage could
believe a different sun has risen,
Tomorrow, against that same day,
That same sun, that same savage,
Or believe in nothing and have the rhythm of that at least.
Antigone drinks down her cigarette and cogitates:
-Against the angels, ‘til my dying breath, spits Antigone.
Go, sleep, climb,
Trample on the dead people and their pyramid,
Faster than flame right up to the summit again.
