  Time with his pointed shafts has hit my heart   and split my guts, laid open my entrails,   landed me a blow that will not heal   knocked me down, left me in lasting pain…   He did not stop at whirling me around,   exiling me while yet my days were green   sending me stumbling, drunk, to roam the world…   He scattered everyone I care for northward,   eastward, or to the west, so that   I have no rest from constant thinking, planning—   and never a moment’s peace, for all my  plans.[5]