I wept not — so to stone I grew within.

I presumed to fix my look on the eternal light so long that I consumed my sight thereon.

Pure essence, and pure matter, and the two joined into one were shot forth without flaw, like three bright arrows from a three-string bow.

All your renown is like the summer flower that blooms and dies; because the sunny glow which brings it forth, soon slays with parching power.

Conscience, that boon companion who sets a man free under the strong breastplate of innocence, that bids him on and fear not.

Into the eternal darkness, into fire and into ice.

They yearn for what they fear for.