O Sun, Great Oriental, My Proud Mind's

When I Encounter A Sunrise, A Painting, A Woman, Or An Idea That Makes My Heart Bound Like A Young Calf, Then I Know I Am Standing In Front Of Happiness.

Everything In This World Has A Hidden Meaning, I Thought. Men, Animals, Trees, Stars, They Are All Hieroglyphics; Woe To Anyone Who Begins To Decipher Them And Guess What They Mean.... When You See Them, You Do Not Understand Them. You Think They Are Really Men, Animals, Trees, Stars. It Is Only Years Later, Too Late, That You Understand.

If Only We Know, Boss, What The Stones And Rain And Flowers Say. Maybe They Call-call Us-and We Don't Hear Them. When Will People's Ears Open, Boss? When Shall We Have Our Eyes Open To See? When Shall We Open Our Arms To Embrace Everything-stones, Rain, Flowers, And People? What Do You Think About That, Boss? And What Do Your Books Have To Say About That?

Thus Night With All Her Snares Passed Through The Upper World And Baited All Heads Sweetly, Fed All Foolish Hopes, For Night Can Bring To Men All Shrewish Day Denies, Wrapped As A Gift In The Green Leaves Of Opiate Dream.

All Roads Lead To The Earth; The Abyss Leads To God. Jump!