Part 5
It seemed to me that fate moved his lips
So he may say the words that joined the kinship
Of his people, that insane tribe,
Who thought that they had the right describe
The workings of our highest lordship.

Even though my mind dwelt on their madness,
All argument died in my dry throat
When I found my new claims were groundless
And my legs could no longer keep me afloat.

The man of my pact helped me to my feet
To tell me that their time together was complete,
And unless I wanted to be tried for deceit
I would go away in a manner discrete,
And if I did so they would in no way mistreat
My person as I fled down their rocky street.

With confusion in my heart I did what I was told,
And stepped through their rotten oaken gate
Onto a path that was neither wide nor straight
Because it was covered with plants and mold.

I often tried to go back to the fire and the village
So I may give fresh arguments, my latest thoughts
To the people who reveled in insanities;
But alas mysteries like to stay as mysteries,
And fate has its own puzzling plots
Which never again let me see their solid image.