Mirror mirror on the wall,
Who’s the bravest of them all?
His image fastens on him,
Its piercing eyes, its mouth opens;
Jeers at him.
“Make me numb God, make me Numb”
He whispers
“my face is red with weeping,
Deep shadows ring my eyes.
Make me numb.”
This fear shatters him,
Seizes him by the neck; crushes him.
Without pity, it pierces his kidneys,
Spills his galls on the ground.
It plunges him into a slime pit,
Even his clothes detest him.
It sews sack-cloths over his skin;
Buries his brow in the dust.
Each time he gets up, he goes down.
Deep.
Deeper.
He knows the foundations of hell like his first name.
He whispers
“My face is red with weeping,
Deep shadows ring my eyes.
Make me numb.”
He is but a byword to everyone;
A man, whose face people spit,
His whole frame is but a shadow,
As water wears away stones,
As torrents wash away soil,
He lies down thinking
“How long, before I get up?”
For you see, the night drags on,
And the days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle.
He is a slave, longing for evening shadows,
Like a hired man, awaiting his wages.
So,
“Make me numb God, make me Numb”
He whispers
“Make me numb, till I feel nothing
For fear is but a feeling”
Befado