I, the People-Watcher,
You, the people,
She, the Bird that lands lithely on her branch,
(They with their party tricks of New,
Conventionality strewn through their slicked tresses,
Shifting rapidly in their interests,
Contemporary a term of ir-rationale
I cannot change as devils do.)
I, the People-Watcher,
With cloak tucked high above my shoulders,
Bone-handled knives stashed neatly away
And with a soar She flew high
Above the scheming men
With a sleight of the wing blades were thrown
Here came You, the wailing people
They, incarnations of Devils long fought
And so we warred for the Old. The world
Went silently on,
Spring bloomed her famed blossoms,
Summer beat the sun's unforgiving rays upon the raging seas,
Autumn felled her leaves from her trees, and
Winter swept the lands with lording blizzards
I, you
{Navami M.}