Poor Atlas bound in chain,
Against dark rock
Night and day you strain
Whitewashed hearth soaked with blood
of your body, torn,
to serve greedy master
to whom you are sworn.
Atlas, great Atlas
Like the lamb you are shorn.
Tear off that chain, cast down the clay
No more tomorrows forlorn,
not another day.
Mend your body; its strength to regain
Until you become
Atlas unbound once again
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