I have passed inconspicuously, haggard, Through that serpentine road before/ The one, that with Andean zeal conceals in mist, The restless birthing of your fickle thirst/ And in the distance bitter, seeking sense, Utterly disgraced, like a ruthlessly uncrowned king; Lost in grief, my spell for thee with force I speak/ While in my wrinkled skin I feel, elusive first, Then deep in strength, Your gracious whirlwind that entrusted dares/ And from my nearby chest, I hear I swear, The sudden Breathing stopping, of my breeding self/ My soul released, feeling bleak, th e love of God in thee, In truth I seek/ In spite of all, still I beg, be kind, remove the hatchet From my failing tree/