The problem is that my science
Concerns only others.
Hand me at once an arrow and a bow,
Let the neighbor-target prepare for its arrival.

My weapon is a target at the same time:
I strike someone — they wound me.
I scare enemies so they will be afraid —
Will the fright pass me by?

I wait for the boomerang of insults to return
Across the forehead or the nape,
In people I see mostly scum —
So how to hope for mercy from fate?