I never thought to do him a bad turn,
And it occurred because of a mistake:
My age was only seventeen years old,
When that odd bird knifed me in the gateway.

Like a good friend, he grinned without a trick,
As if he had no disposition to fight,
And gave me his right hand for shaking it,
Whereas in his left one, there was a knife.

There’s no thy fault, and so don’t thou wail,
He cheated me with his kind look and grin.
I see a ray which came to the gateway
And cloaked itself behind the slop waste-bin...