Brother, we lack one leg,
Amputated before our birth.
And it was not even elected
Which leg we wanted cut.
Brother, how can we run
Now to get our leg back,
If we lack such leg to run?
We will ever limp in a circle,
Our three limbs in the middle
Of a circumference.
Man, our’s a deficient peace!
O epsilon! We must hunt for
A leg to split our encirclement
Back into four and jump forth
To its fourth she-element.
Let us not use our muscle
To mend our birth wound.
Lets try now the way subtle
To all excesses justly cure.
