There was a strange man of a sort

Who feared his shadow and

Disliked seeing his footsteps

So that he ran to escape from them.

But the more frequently he lifted his feet,

The more numerous his footprints were

To bring him into the depth of desert;

And however fast he ran,

His shadow did not leave his side.

He thought he was going too slow

And ran on with all his speed

Without stopping till his strength

Was exhausted and he fell down, dead.

Alas, he didn’t know that if he had stayed

In a shady place, his obtrusive shadow

Would have disappeared and that

If he had remained still for awhile,

He would have lost his footprints—

So much his folly was beyond reason!