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     Look not at the crossroads, where amber's luxuriant ropes have run, And thorns and blood-clots may wound the footsteps of much-travelled feet, And the memory of little inconveniences and bumps will roll before thee, like a beaver's dam in the rings of fragile life's paths, try to find the utterable, the essential, which in the furrowed faces and the bitter eyes, broken and stunted, bursts forth. In unknown lands be a little within thyself: Independent and Free, Think on sure and tangible paths akin to veteran-eyed mountains much lived, And look intently on the carved grooves of rocky agastans.

     Time, much tried, as a caring sculptor, hath polished and sculptured them to perfection! If you watch men, do not just watch them, Watch with booc-eyes dumbfounded, bewitched,- But the walnut gleam of eyes, the melodious fragility of voices, The melting heat of sighs that fill the faltering conscience, Take great heed! Let not recklessly and recklessly the immortal spark-perfect, In which at last the emotions may at last swing on one string, And with beseeching voices greet the future, blessed mothers-to-be, The immortal belly-dwellers of their love. 

    Look not at the wages that are paid, To bribe thyself after thy work, as a duped second fiddler, And sell what can be realized in life's morals, To be received with burning kisses, with holy humility. Do not contemplate forms and matter unconditionally, but the tactile and tangible nature of things, which even unconsciously cuts out of Time the indestructible Real as the only essential, - only what is exploded and raining behind the hills, the rainbow-glorious red dragon's wing sparkling through the wounded and now bleeding sunset! 

    The kiss-dialogue of whirling tongues Like a melodious bell-tongue bong! And to the music of parting lips the immortal transcendence of the fillable All, possible eternity, calls!


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