Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.

storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning, Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing, I tread day and night such roads.

Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gathered, it is the fourth of Seventh-month, (what salutes of cannon and small arms!

I speak the password primeval; I give the sign of democracy.

Forsake all inhibitions, Pursue thy dreams.

In the confusion we stay with each other, happy to be together, speaking without uttering a single word.