Who are you? Why do you persist
In strapping me to your wheel?
How can it quiet you to twist
My spirit on the spinning steel?

The iron and tormented leaves
Writhe across your jagged gates;
And all my body as it weaves
Derides the hell it decorates.

Break me slowly, spoke by spoke,
But at least when you have done,
Let it please you that you broke
The black wheel with Ixion.