I remember I once asked mother “how can it be?” but she

turned her face to the other side and cried; since then I’ve

made a rule to unabatedly obey and often, while I was

mingling awkwardly among the crowd the heavenly

powers were playing with the fringes of my coat though

there wasn’t any wind; if I spoke at that time they would

had understood me, however eternity had already deleted

those words and once, when they removed the lamp without

asking the dark favor, that same night, the woman gave birth

to the horrible sign which they killed hastily at the edge of

the garden; I in vain kneeled and begged them, “leave it,

perhaps it will understand us” I said, but they, distant and

pale as they were seen by others, locked and sealed the big

iron gate.