With days of hard travail I raised a temple. It had no doors or windows, its walls were thickly built with massive stones.
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I forgot all else, I shunned all the world, I gazed in rapt contemplation at the image I had set upon the altar.
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It was always night inside, and lit by the lamps of perfumed oil.
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The ceaseless smoke of incense wound my heart in its heavy coils.
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Sleepless, I carved on the walls fantastic figures in mazy bewildering lines -- winged horses, flowers with human faces, women with limbs like serpents.
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