do you not see, the figure before you?
what sort of lemur, what ghostly apparition
is he, without horns, without fur,
nor with hooves, nor tails.
his fangs are blunt, his smile disarming,
his voice deep, his laughter disturbing
his thoughts darkly, his wonders is upon the whole globe.
he stands tall, but sleeps so pathetically low
as if the ground has grown itself a hunchback---a -dom(us).
he is many, he is plenty, he is ubiquitous
indefinite and ambiguous, the nebular path
he trode yet each time, alone! alone! alone trodded him!
the ground parts and grows humble before his steely claws--the claws he has not! (the plough and the axe)
the ocean sinks and flee from his drunken feet of the woods, (the ship and the pen)
as if dews from drought of the desert---the desert is his spirit. (the song is thirsty)
the air that blew upon the green mountains and deep valleys bring news of his august harvest-a good thrashing beating--- (death!)
his bruised fruit with dubious seeds all bear flesh
and the black cosmos looks down at him in fear, he who is bearing all the immortal burning splendour and haloed-glories against her
down below, in the abyss called earth; Son of the soil and mud. Son of the salty seas. Son of the chilly and cloudy heaven.
(bearing up that mercurial-light! lamp of luci-fer!)
What idol is he who dwells in the golden radiance,
that phantasmagoric masque of lordly shadows and silent idols; puppets and phantomimes?
(all is dead; all is death! all is vanity of an eternal dream!)
what sort of evil? what monster, what spectre?
of which Beast is this UNGODLY manifestation?
that the ancient faerie elves in their loathsome ugliness beheld him
in sympathetic fear?
of what kind of primitive and guttural utterance?
(that we yell! in happiness of fortune or before the battle signaling its destruction; we yell!
we yell!)
What builds his skin and muscles?
Built him; What the hands, What the eyes?
He whom we do not understand,
with perfectly good-shaped limbs,
a spiky round head, two walking legs,
a nose for breathing, a mouth for feeding.
a tharm-some flesh-hole spindling for taking behind it surrendered coiled rings--
like a self-entangling snake, like a self-immolating incense-tree.
(the bowels! the bowels with which we devour all there is
to the Spirit and the Meat!)
what is the mannerism of this Animal? I don't like.
When he bends his knees---he strains his face, seems like ready for joking.
He scoffs at me, he yowls,
he shrieks at me, then he roars.
Bearing so much venomous exhortations and sweet supplications, it is confusing
it is like seeing Thunder roaring
sulfurical; a flash of Lightning 
what sort of lemur, what ghostly apparition
is he, without horns,
but holding in his hand so deadly a twice-folded horny thing---shining darkly
(it is a dagger! i see a dagger before me!
it is a grave disposition set upon me)
blinding all my brightly sovereign senses?
the manifestation of the spirit before all that are wild and ridiculous of the universe
shining darkness before blind darkness, the latter darkness not of 
the silent phantomime  of Nature's stage, but black Nature's devilishly jealous green-eye itself
the evil puppeteers that denies, subjugates and kills all freewill
of the participating marionettes and guignols in the Act, dancing upon his / her palm
those were these hands drawn up by the strings in prostration
but were struck down by the loosening gravity when the Hand holds no longer

who holds the string?
who wears the ring?
Nature or him?
he is sombre and thinking,
his gaze is cast downwards, and thus upwards.
armed and dangerous.
there is a mine of dynamite below him,
there is a kingdom of wall and filth above him,
brave and cowardly.
hoisting up to his empty sky!
(strike the light-binding clouds palsy dead)
joyful.
world-killing, mind-throbbing, peace-ravishing
lonely.
he is Man. 
he is walking among shadows.
the shadowy lemur of Man.
the man who holds in his hand the twice
murdered and born secret of the Universe.