Clamors the crow:
Arise! for whilst thou were slumbering,
Three droplets of blood were spilled in your name.
Arise, then, for while you were in abeyance
Death came to visit and when he happened upon you,
He saw through the coarse hair and rotting flesh
And realized that though your eyes mirrored decadence,
You had yet to abstract your revenge.
But the man determines in his heart
He shall not arise because as he surmises,
As savagely as the sea at the onset of the tide,
He will bereave the loss of his life.
Arise! Arise! Cries the crow,
For tomorrow is the dawning of a new eve.
Neither hither nor thither will the dead be reprieved of their grave.
Arise, then, that you may avenge yourself and the blood spilled in your name.
Should Death find you within his enclaves,
Then you should certainly be put to shame.
But the man is adamant and isn't easily persuaded.
He says to himself, As children we handle butterfly wings.
We marvel at their intricacy, and likewise I perceive my abode to be.
I will not overturn a single stone unless, due to dew, it molds.
Hearken, crow, here is where I remain!
Arise! The crow exclaims more urgently.
For how much more has a man than his name?
Lest you desire to hang your head in shame,
Arise! Arise! Save your face.
But the man ascertains that he will not arise.
For who am I, he counters, but a widower?
All whom I come across are adverse to my appearance.
My lips furrow and I have a wandering eye,
But worse is the hunchback that rises when I inhale
And droops when I sigh.
Arise! Arise! Shrills the crow.
Heed my advice that no harm may fall upon you.
But the words are met with deaf ears
For the man responds jeeringly,
If I arise as the crow commands,
Searching hither and thither throughout the land,
Who's to say I will find those who spilled my blood?
And amid the discouraging thoughts, he shudders
Should I arise only to lower my head in shame?
For what will become of me,
A man too abject to avenge his name?
When Death comes, I will pretend to slumber
And answer to no one for what more am I afraid of
Than having been twice disgraced?
I shall be as an animal who is preyed upon,
Blood imbruing its flesh.
Not I! Cries the man. For in the nether regions,
I shall be so sagacious as to avoid Death.
Arise! Arise! Shrills the crow a final time.
For as I am alive, you are mistaken.
There is more shame in having hidden
Than coming forth and disgracing yourself,
When you were given the opportunity to do otherwise.
Arise, then, that your death isn't as trifling as your life.
Says the crow to the man, Arise! Arise!