Nobody’s here, no human voice 40 will come through to you. When the bloom on your cheek is burnt black by the sun you’ll be glad when night with her veils of starcloud covers up the glare, And again glad when at dawn, the sun scatters the hoarfrost off. But always you’ll be crushed by the load of each, every moment. The one who will set you free hasn’t even been born. 50 This is what you get for loving humankind.
