Before the first brick was laid,
I lived beyond the wood
in a house built of thatch and saplings.
The hides of hairy beasts
warmed my feet and shoulders.
Herbal scented hay held my head
as I slept without regret.
And when the grape consented,
I argued with the gods
beneath cedar boughs in the summer air.
My wife sang kitchen songs that filled my heart
as her busyness filled my stomach.
My children played simple games
that they will remember,
with immeasurable pleasure
in the hoary times of their future.
Life was good,
before the first brick was laid.