I who was born to believe in the power of law
                                 was maquis at heart.
I who wrote that a tapestry stretched to the moon
Needled with dancing of women more beautiful
                                 than ever they were
                                 lied in my words.
I who saw first the image and after the man,
Heard in the tune, not the whole, but the words,
Not the fact of the song but the incident glee
                                 slept with the corpse
                                 of my brother Cain,
                                 and dreamt his doom.