A CHIMED SOUL

Oh, you miserable, clumsy soul! Prodigal, brooding, moping, moping, brooding, who like a hunted beast is forced to flee and hide, or daily is forced to flee and hide. The inexpressible, perceptible instinct of our words, the pensive telepathy of our pensive telepathy - you are the one all would seek, who have long since tired of the incessant, sputtering, sputtering, cries of woe, of the fallen failures driven to senselessness!

Our thirsty existences would be relieved only by your insight into what has been forced upon our innocent beings. Interest and insidiousness now conceal all from us. Like stateless, mobile playthings, we can only languish in the shadows of uncertain tomorrows. Fearing the spreading bourgeois wickedness of the powerful, or the maximum judgment of inhumanity, which man, blinded by greed, would inflict on us for the sake of certain profit, risking our fragmented lives.

O soul! Do not yet forsake the wicked wavers of our conscience, and the wounded tender-hearted - the persecutor, who with hyena claws on another will sooner or later take his fancy, and thou mayest find again a cup of comfort in some beating heart or other, which is thy home from everlasting; care not for the false and insidious promises of the future, care not! The weight of thy deeds can at most be impartially judged by moral humanity! For the word of truth, the word of good, the stubborn deed of honesty, would have weight!

Our fate, like it or not, is a rolling wheel that returns to itself, we ourselves may fall into a trap, and if we try to live, the pendulum of Being's pendulum law of motion will only throw us back. O soul! Rarely wanting to cease, rathartian restlessness is therefore necessary, that even in the borderline anxieties of perilous human souls you may be a steadfast sentinel, an unshakable bulwark on which we may safely lean!