Perhaps I should move to an island
To be alone beyond the sea,
To do my penitential labor,
Where my only harm is done to me.
The sea will give her coughing sigh
At the evil I have done
And eat away at the beach's dust--
Contrite I and the dust, one.
And on I'll pass away my days
'Til my penance is complete:
No one there to distract from my shame,
Prostrate at Divinity's Seat.