I CLING TO THIS living raft, my body, in the narrow stream of my earthly years. I leave it when the crossing is over. And then? I do not know if the light there and the darkness are the same. The Unknown is the perpetual freedom: He is pitiless in his love. He crushes the shell for the pearl, dumb in the prison of the dark. You muse and weep for the days that are done, poor heart! Be glad that days are to come! The hour strikes, 0 pilgrim! It is time for you to take the parting of the ways! His face will be unveiled once again and you shall meet.
I SHALL NOT wait and watch in the house for thy coming, but will go forth into the open, for the petals fall from the drooping flowers and time flies to its end. The wind is up, the water is ruffled. Be swift and cut the rope, let the boat drift in the midstream, for the time flies to its end. The night is pale, the lonely moon is playing its ferry of dreams across the sky. The path is unknown, but I heed it not. My mind has the wings of freedom and I know that I shall cross the dark. Let me but start on my journey, for the time flies to its end.