I don't give a shit

They don't understand me. I am not the mouth for these ears. Perhaps I've lived too long in my own life (a delusion as people said). I have hearkened too much to the brooks and trees.

Now I speak to them as to the goatherds. My Soul is calm and clear, like the mountains in the morning.
But they think I am cold, and a mocker with terrible jests!

Now they look at me and laugh, and while they laugh they hate me too.
But who give a shit.