If you knew the aches upon my soul,
The rust of bones I feebly hold,
The deepened grudges borne within
The sinews stretched beneath my skin,
You would be less so quick to scold.
If you've felt ill fortune's glances,
Had devil's luck, known dusted chances,
Felt your fierceness slowly lost
In the fight, and in the cost,
You will have your hard-sought answers.
If you know a thing at all
Of the spinning coin or tumbling ball,
Of praying will upon the dice -
This God of empty sacrifice! -
Judge not the end, but how I fall.