Whence the fall of the fruit
Onto the thorns down below
Will the world hate and despise us
And curse us when we go?
Ah, I know,
The mighty rock keeps on turning slow
A thousand brave men shall come and go
And be forgotten, like those who went long ago
At least they will remember, when they hate
Me, and though they may find me desolate
Of manly things, Man I am still; Contemplate
What I did. It took courage to challenge fate.
I climbed Parnassus, but to no avail
On the top was a desert, Dull, Pale!
What for did I raise such a Tempest, fierce!
Every bridge to burn, every precious heart to pierce!
And the heart still does ache, like it did as before
All is the same, this malady has no cure
The only difference is this; Back then I thought I was alone
But loneliness such as this exists, I had never known!