'It hath no sound', whispered Sudanenka, 'which I write upon the ground'. And the prince fell silent as the holy man began to sing; yet its beauty was utterly incomprehensible to the prince, who sat astonished, gazing upon the earth as Sudanenka's song began to radiate from the twig which he held.
'Tell me', said the prince, 'what sin are you guilty of to be punished so?' And Sudanenka simply replied 'no sin'. And both were as stone for many thousands of years, until the prince said, as if it were his next breath:
'Poop...! Poop...!' And time rolled gently into nothing.