I think of other ages that floated upon the stream of life and love
and death and are forgotten, and I feel the freedom of passing away.
The sadness of my soul is her bride's veil.
It waits to be lifted in the night.
Death's stamp gives value to the coin of life; making it possible
to buy with life what is truly precious.
The cloud stood humbly in a corner of the sky.
The morning crowned it with splendour.
The dust receives insult and in return offers her flowers.
Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on,
for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.
Roots are the branches down in the earth.
Branches are roots in the air.