O human race, born to fly upward, wherefore at a little wind dost thou so fall?
We have no hope and yet we live in longing.
Love, that all gentle hearts so quickly know.
At this high moment, ability failed my capacity to describe.
The day that man allows true love to appear, those things which are well made will fall into cofusion and will overturn everything we believe to be right and true.
As little flowers, which the chill of night has bent and huddled, when the white sun strikes, grow straight and open fully on their stems, so did I, too, with my exhausted force.