1)
i fear to tread
the path you’ve chosen,
spirits could frolic there,
but not me.
that path
would bruise my toes,
etch calluses
under my soles;
2)
bordered
by dense foliage of deaths,
thoughts of that path spin
vertigo in my head;
3)
the call of danger
is no fragrance
to my nostrils,
or wine which excites the breast--
4)
i am no valiant warrior
who tracks the path of the raging bull
where vultures
and hyenas lie hidden;
nor like you, intrepid hunter
on the scent of justice--
careless of the decreed perilous path
of the ogre.