Lamentations of the Lonely Wanderer

My feet surrender bloody prints in the snow behind me;
blood drips from my fingers, leaving red drops on the white ground.
My body screams with pain – the result of angry beatings.
Tears of betrayal carve red streaks on my face.
Spilt wine is treated better than I; do you not clean it up?
For what purpose have you caused such suffering -
you for whom I have always longed to do good?

By your houses I walk, hoping to see you through the windows.
My eyes see no faces behind the glass – no one is looking for me.
Stripes of red and black curtains block my searching gaze.
May I come closer – knock on the doors? No indeed -
you have put up barriers of gate, fence, and lock.
Be my friend – that’s all I ask – a kind hand receives joy in turn.
Healed by love, can we not live life together?

By the by, I have been swept aside, deemed the least of your priorities.
My appearance is rejected in the finest circles of wealth and splendor.
Death is better than life, do you think? This seems to be your conclusion.
Many before you have believed the same, even if they said otherwise.
Find you that the exterior is most important – fleeting comfort richer than eternity?
Life has been given so you can be free yet you shackle yourself with temporary pleasures.
Again, I find myself crucified.

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When you have finished reading the poem the regular way, read only the first word of every line. If you have not already realized the identity of the Lonely Wanderer, that should tell you.