The burning log bursts in flame and cries, "This is my flower, my death."
The wasp thinks that the honeyhive of the neighbouring bees is too small
His neighbours ask him to build one still smaller
I cannot keep your waves,
Let me keep your footprints in my heart
The day, with the noise of this little earth, drowns the silence of
all worlds.
The song feels the infinite in the air, the picture in the earth,
the poem in the air and the earth;
For its words have meaning that walks and music that soars
When the sun goes down to the West, the East of his morning stands
before him in silence.
Let me not put myself wrongly to my world and set it against me