Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
　　Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
　　And the profit and loss.
　　A current under sea
　　Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
　　He passed the stages of his age and youth
　　Entering the whirlpool.
　　Gentile or Jew
　　O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
　　Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.