Then the sun grew cold and bounty fled the earth. And the grass dried in the field And the fish boiled in the sea And the earth ate no more dead. Through pale windows the night rose and surged, an unfamiliar image, and the roads snaked and faded in the dark. None thought of love None thought of victory and no one thought anything at all. In the caves of loneliness was futility born. The blood gave reek of bhang and opium. Women, pregnant bore babies, headless and in shame made their cradles graves. What black and bitter days! Bread saved us from prophecy and hungry prophets, desperate fled from groves of holy tryst and lambs astray were deaf to the shepherd's "Hey!" in the mire of meadow.