I’m always consuming, but it’s never enough

to fill my ever-empty belly.

And there is scarce enough to quaff

to quench this insatiable thirst.

I have lived too long on breadcrumbs

and stagnant water,

so long that I have forgotten the taste

of finer foods and refreshing drink.

I am driven by my belly,

always growling, always unsatisfied,

and not in the least quelled or quieted.

I have been cast into this wasteland

of drought and lack,

banished by my own desires,

the lusts of this body

and the depravity of this wretched mind.

Can’t anyone save me from this hell?

Or am I doomed to wonder this dusty place

for all of eternity?

 

My teeth are always gnashing,

always gnawing,

always clenched in bitter ire,

set on edge and biting,

always biting,

but never knowing the pleasures of meat.

Oh, that I may have but a morsel

of anything other than this dust,

and this bitter wormwood,

and these sun-bleached bones

littering this desperate landscape.

But there is nothing of pleasure here,

nothing to gratify

my ever-increasing longings.

My emaciated form crawls endlessly

across the infinite and derelict wilderness

crying out for relief,

but there is none to answer my voice.

This is my sentence

and I must pay the penalty for my crimes.

I am no less than deserving

of this torturous existence.

There is no relief here,

and no respite for my wanderings.

There is no shade from the ever-present sun

and no soft place to lay my head.

Oh, that I was a dog or some other beast!

Then I could eat what scraps may fall

from my master’s table.

Even that would be more desirable a presence

than my wasted form in this wasted place.

Oh, that death would take me

from this misery!

But there is no such mercy here.

Oh, wretched man that I am!

Who can save me

from this body of ruination?

Who can rescue me from my torments?

Do not leave me here to die!