One falcon wing of many feathershides a winding road,
most perfect in elevation and perspective!
such counterweights, three hundred feet tall,
are held in place across the Lower Kingdom.
All belong to me, the Osiran;
the daily commerce, life,
the parade of love —
at the first step of the stairway to heaven,
my elbows are supported by two attendants.
The walls are distressed, and could give way;
at any moment,
there is nothing but me
to stop you from falling,
for all belongs to me —
I have a crook in the market, in the shadows.
If he is to be believed,
the Upper Kingdom has a long arm.
As for the tower,
this mountain of rooms and bricks —
as if by a white shroud,
its peak is obscured by clouds,
and a single falcon wing.
