I was christened
by the enemy,
stripped naked of name and liberty;
in a cruel cage, on this lonely rock.
Cold, this rock-cradle
for a weakened heart it is like the clutch of the grave.
No intrusion here
of wind, sunlight—and no dawn.
Tears nourished me,
The earth was my mat, in turn, too hot, too cold;
how dark the sky
shrouded by a thousand sorrows in the night!
With pain beyond endurance,
the power of noble earth.
What miracle is this?
Heart and soul cried out at this Promethean power.
I am vowed
Earth is the beginning of all things,
Out of it come
the seed of green hope and life’s ripening.