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I am like the other cave troll. I remember his lonely grey prison,
he who knew no end to pain and no beginning aside from pain.
There was no escape from his sad chain, where the cave floor
shuddered and was smashed, or his little eyes that were angry
and beady and almost saw before he was killed, after he almost
killed them all. So it is said. He had a sad start, he was not loved.
He was better off to be touched by the sun and turned to stone.
But daylight does not break inside the broken heart gone down
into the night, that flows like rivers of gloom and takes me ever
further into pain that never ends. But there is a gate I work upon.
