(To M., the serpent)
A gentle maid, a child of bliss,
Caressed a serpent on her knees.
She took the serpent as her friend,
But every friendship has its end.
The trees foresaw the coming plot,
The maid just laughed at their word:
“The desert prowler will betray,
It bites you dead and slips away.”
At dawn she fell on golden sand
With poison trickling from her hand.
The wicked serpent she caressed
With slime and dirt has built its nest
The trees foresaw the coming plot,
In silence died their warning word:
“The desert prowler will betray,
It bites you dead and slips away.”