For everything exists and not one sigh nor smile nor tear, one hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.
My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt.
The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks.
Poetry fettered fetters the human race.
Both read the Bible day and night, but thou read black where I read white.
To create a little flower is the labour of ages.