LET ALL THE strains of joy mingle in my last song-the joy that makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.
BONDS? INDEED they are bonds, this love and this hope in our hearts. They are as mother's arms pressing the child to the warmth of her bosom. Thirst? Yes, it is the thirst which leads life to each source of its joy in the breasts of the eternal mother. Who would take from the child this thirst of his growing life and break through the bonds of the mother's encircling arms?
