This stranger holding me from head to toe,

This deaf usurper I shall never know,

Who lives in household quiet in my unrest,

And of my troubles weaves his tranquil nest,

Who never smiles or frowns or bows his head,

And while I rage is insolent as the dead,

Composed, indifferent, thankless, faithful, he

Is my firm ally and sole enemy.

Come then, take up the cleansing blade once more

That drives all difference out. The fabled shore

Sees us again. Now the predestined fight,

The ancestral stroke, the opening gash of light:

Side by side myself by myself slain,

The wakening stir, the eyes loaded with gain

Of ocean darkness, the rising hand in hand,

I with myself at one, the changed land,

My home, my country! But this precious seal

Will slowly crumble, the thief Time will steal

Soft-footed bit by bit this boundless treasure

Held in four hands. I shall regain my measure,

My old measure again, shrink to a room, a shelf

Where decently I lay away myself,

Become the anxious warder, groan and fret

My thankless service to this martinet

Who sleeps and sleeps and rules. I hold this life

Only in strife and the aftertaste of strife

With this dull champion and thick-witted king.

But at one word he’ll jump into the ring.