No one is to open or close a single door/ Without homage to me, who see two ways,/Door's tutelary. horizon lines/ Of stable land, unstable seas, yield to my gaze./ My two faces penetrate the past, /Discern the future. Common to both I see, /Drawn swords, evil, discord;/ One who could have removed them let them be/ And does so still. Missing are my two hands./ I am of stone fixed in place. I cannot say/ For sure whether the things that I behold/ Are future disputes or quarrels of yesterday./ I look about my ruins: truncated column,/ Faces powerless to glance each other's way.