XXXIII

My desire goes bristling and growling like an angry leopard;

My ribs are a hollow grating, my hair is coarse and hard,

My flanks are like sharp iron wedges, my eyes glitter as chill glass;

Down below there are the meadows where my famished hopes are feeding,

I will waylay them to windward, stalking in watchful patience,

I will pounce upon them, plunging my muzzle in the hot spurt of their blood.