And they will cling to us, as we sit there, like a thick fog.
What would our Leader think of us, I wonder, if he could hear us now?
I am sure it is our Leader, who has led us astray. He makes us toil for nothing, while he himself remains idle.
Let us go back and fight with him. We will tell him that we won't move a step further, but sit with our legs tucked under us. These legs are wretched vagabonds. They are always trudging the road.
We will keep our hands fast behind our backs.
There is no mischief in the back; all the trouble is in the front.
Of all our limbs, the back is the most truthful. It says to us, "Lie down."
When we are young, that braggart breast is a great swell; but, in the end, we can only rely on our back.
The little stream that flows past our village comes to my mind. That morning we thought that it said to us, "Forward! Forward!" But what it really said was, "False! False!" The world is all false.
Our Pundit used to tell us that.