STONE-COLOURED MINES

Like everyone who is not afraid, and has a heart of stone to show his emotions in prison, I too live in the shelter provided, free to go in and out. This present World leads me to certain despair, and the ships of my aims and ideas Soon sink on the fierce snares of human wickedness.

In social crowds too I am more and more lost-alone! The forced, ever-talked of failure, negative pessimism has broken me, like an innocent prisoner-slave condemned to galley slavery; my under-confidence in men has been shaken by the waning decay of the soul! My broken-necked naked helplessness is, in many cases, the clamorous warning of a helpless child. From my heart, thorns of lace berry bushes Sharp spears plunge as they wound.

I cry out - if heard - to humanity! Hear me! And as at the gates of a few self-assured cowering souls I have rung the bonging alarm-bell as herald: my cries are not yet heeded. All around me, like a tentacled octopus with a thousand arms, the poisonous jellyfish-coil of the axe-maiden, pregnant for the umpteenth time with shameful suicidal thoughts!

Every hour now consumes and divides me. The cowardly stain of helplessness touches me and makes me worse, always tripping me, breaking the delicate strings of my soul and can no longer hold me together! My will, if I had any, is suddenly broken down into micro-molecules - consumed by self-reliance, always in need of a good word. The continuation of my fragmentary life is at an uncertain threshold.