This Bread I Break

This bread I break was once the oat, 

This wine upon a foreign tree 

Plunged in its fruit; 

Man in the day or wine at night 

Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy. 

Once in this wind the summer blood 

Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine, 

Once in this bread 

The oat was merry in the wind; 

Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down. 

This flesh you break, this blood you let 

Make desolation in the vein, 

Were oat and grape 

Born of the sensual root and sap; 

My wine you drink, my bread you snap.