Can we, by any strength of ours, Thrust back this hostile world That tears us from ourselves, As a child from the womb, A weak lover from light breasts? Is there any hope? Can we believe That not in wild perversity, In blinding cruelty, Has flesh torn flesh, Has soul been torn from soul? Must we despair? Throw back upon the gods this taunt That even their loveliest is at best Some ineffectual lie? |