said; They loved the thing. Of a sudden, it moved: It came upon them swiftly; It crushed them all to blood. But some had opportunity to squeal. . , , . - , - . . ; . , , . . . . - , - ; . . . . - 32 - Two or three angels Came near to the earth. They saw a fat church. Little black streams of people Came and went in continually. And the angels were puzzled To know why the people went thus, And why they stayed so long within. . ; . , . . - 33 - There was One I met upon the road Who looked at me with kind eyes. He said: "Show me of your wares." And I did, Holding forth one. He said: "It is a sin." Then I held forth another. He said: "It is a sin." Then I held forth another. He said: "It is a sin." And so to the end. Always He said:"It is a sin." At last, I cried out: "But I have none other." He looked at me With kinder eyes. "Poor soul," He said. . : - , . . : - . . : - . . : - . : - . : - ! : - ! . - 34 - I stood upon a highway, And, behold, there came Many strange pedlers. To me each one made gestures, Holding forth little images, saying; "This my pattern of God. Now this is the God I prefer." But I said: "Hence! Leave me with mine own, And take you yours away; I can't buy of your patterns of Cod, The little gods you may rightly prefer." , . , : - . , . : - ! , . , . . - 35 - A man saw a ball of gold in the sky, He climbed for it, And eventually he achieved it - It was clay. Now this is the strange part: When the man went to the earth And looked again, Lo, there was the ball of gold. Now this is the strange part: It was a ball of gold. Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold. . . . : - . ! . ! . . ; - . : , . : . , . . - 36 - I met a seer. He held in his hands The book of wisdom. "Sir," I addressed him, "Let me read." "Child-" he began. "Sir," I said, "Think not that I am a child, For already I know much Of that which you hold. Aye, much." He smiled. Then he opened the book And held it before me.- Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind. . . - , - , . - ... - . - , - , - , , - , . , ! , . : . . . . - , - , - . - , - . - , - , - , , , ; , . . , . . - 37 - On the horizon the peaks assembled; And as I looked, The march of the mountains began. As they marched, they sang: "Aye! We come! We come!" . - . , : - ! ! ! . ; , . , : "! ! !". . - 38 - The ocean said to me once: "Look! Yonder on the shore Is a woman, weeping. I have watched her. Go you and tell her this,- Her lover I have laid In cool green hall. There is wealth of golden sand And pillars, coral-red; Two white fish stand guard at his bier. "Tell her this And more,- That the king of the seas Weeps too, old, helpless man. The bustling fates Heap his hands with corpses Until he stands like a child With surplus of toys." : - ! , , . ... : , ; . , . , , . , , . . - 39 - The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds; The leaden thunders crashed. A worshipper raised his arm. "Hearken! Hearken! The voice of God!" "Not so," said a man. "The voice of God whispers in the heart So softly That the soul pauses, Making no noise, And strives for these melodies, Distant, sighing, like faintest breath, And all the being is still to hear." , . : - ! ! , ! - , - , - ; , , , , , , ; , . . - 40 - And you love me? I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you, Man's opinions, a thousand thickets, My interwoven existence, My life, Caught in the stubble of the world Like a tender veil,- This stays me. No strange move can I make Without noise of tearing. I dare not. If love loves, There is no world Nor word. All is lost Save thought of love And place to dream. You love me? I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved - - ? - . - . - , , , , , , , , , , - . . . - , , ; , . ? - . - . - , , ... . - 41 - Love walked alone. The rocks cut her tender feet, And the brambles tore her fair limbs. There came a companion to her, But, alas, he was no help, For his name was Heart's Pain. . , . , , - . . - 42 - I walked in a desert. And I cried: "Ah, God, take me from this place!" A voice said: "It is no desert." I cried: "Well, but - The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon." A voice said: "It is no desert." . : - , ! : - . : - - , , ... : - . . . : ", !" : " ". : ", - , , ". : " ". . - 43 - There came whisperings in the winds: "Good-bye! "Good-bye! Little voices called in the darkness: "Good-bye! "Good-bye! Then I stretched forth my arms. "No- No-" There came whisperings in the wind: "Good-bye! "Good-bye! Little voices called in the darkness: "Good-bye! "Good-bye! : - ! ! : - ! ! . : - ! ! : - ! ! : - ! ! . - 44 - I was in the darkness; I could not see my words Nor the wishes of my heart. Then suddenly there was a great light "Let me into the darkness again." ; . . - ! . ; , . ... " ". . - 45 - Tradition, thou art for suckling children. Thou art the enlivening milk for babes; Bot no meat for men is in thee. Then - But, alas, we all are babes. , - ; - , . ... , - . . , , , . , - , , . . - 46 - Many red devils ran from my heart And out upon the page. They were so tiny The pen could mash them. And many struggled in the ink. It was strange To write in this red muck Of things from my heart. . , . . , ... . . , . . . . - 47 - "Think as I think," said a man, "Or you are abominably wicked, You are a toad." And after I had thought of it, I said: "I will, then, be a toad". - , , - , , . , : - . . ", , - , - ; ". , : " ". . - 48 - Once there was a man, - Oh, so wise! In all drink He detected the bitter, And in all touch He found the sting. At last he cried thus: "There is nothing, - No life, No joy, No pain,- There is nothing save opinion, And opinion be damned." - Ax, ! , - . : - - , , , - , , ! . - - , ! , . : " - , , , - , ". . - 49 - I stood musing in a black world, Not knowing where to direct my feel. And I saw the quick stream of men Pouring ceaselessly, Filled with eager faces, A torrent of desire. I called to them: "Where do you go? What do you see?" A thousand voices called to me. A thousand fingers pointed. "Look! Look! There!" I know not of it. But, lo! in the far shy shone a radiance Ineffable, divine, - A vision painted upon a pall; And sometimes was, And sometimes it was not. I hesitated. Then from the stream Came roaring voices, Impatient: "Look! Look! There!" So again I saw, And leaped, unhesilant, And struggled and fumed With outspread clutching fingers. The hard hills tore my flesh; The ways bit my feet. At last I looked again. No radiance in the far sky, Ineffable, divine, No vision painted upon a pall; And always my eyes ached for the light. Then I cried in despair: "I see nothing! Oh, where do I go?" The torrent turned again its faces: "Look! Look! There!" And at the blindness of my spirit They screamed: "Fool! Fool! Fool!" , , , . , , , ; . : - ? ? . : - ! - ! ! , . , , , ; , . . : - ! ! ! - , , ; . , . , , , ; . . : - ! , ? : - ! ! ! : - ! ! ! . - 50 - You say you are holy, And that Because I have not seen you sin. Aye, but there are those Who see you sin, my friend. . , , , . , , , . . - 51 - A man went before a strange god, - The god of many men, sadly wise. And the deity thundered loudly, Fat with rage, and puffing: "Kneel, mortal, and cringe And grovel and do homage To my particularly sublime majesty." The man fled. Then the man went to another god,- The god of his inner thoughts. And this one looked at him With soft eyes Lit with infinite comprehension, And said: "My poor child!" - , . , : - , ! ! , ! . - . , . : - ! . - 52 - Why do you strive for greatness, fool? Go pluck a bough and wear it. It is as sufficing. My Lord, there are certain barbarians Who tilt their noses As if the stars were flowers, And thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles. Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes. Fool, go pluck a bough and wear it. - , ? . , . - , - , , , . . - , . . - 53 - I Blustering god, Stamping across the sky With loud swagger, I fear you not. No, though from your highest heaven You plunge your spear at my heart, I fear you not. No, not if the blow Is as the lightning blasting tree, I fear you not, puffing braggart. II If thou can see into my heart That I fear thee not, Thou wilt see why I fear thee not, And why it is right. So threaten not, thou, with thy bloody spears, Else thy sublime ears shall hear curses. III Withal, there is one whom I fear; I fear to see grief upon that face. Perchance, friend, he is not your god; If so, spit upon him. By it you will do no profanity. But I - Ah, sooner would I die Than see tears in those eyes of my soul. I , , . , . , , , , II , , , . , . III , , . , , ; , , . ... , , ! . - 54 - "It was wrong to do this," said the angel "You should live like a flower, Holding malice like a puppy, Waging war like a lambkin." "Not so," quoth the man Who had no fear of spirits; "It is only wrong for angels Who can live like the flowers, Holding malice like the puppies, Waging war like the lambkins." - , - , , , , . - , - , , - , , , , , . . - 55 - A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place. The man cried out in rage: "Ah! do not deride me, fool! I know you - All day stuffing your belly, Burying your heart In grass and tender sprouts: It will not suffice you." But the ass only grinned at him from the green place. , . - , . : - , , ! - . , , - ; - ! , . . - 56 - A man feared that he might find an assassin, Another that he might find a victim. One was more wise than the other. , - . - 57 - With eye and with gesture You say you are holy. I say you lie; For I did see you Draw away your coals From the sin upon the hands Of a little child. Liar! , , . : - ! - , . ! . - 58 - The sage lectured brilliantly. Before him, two images: "Now this one is a devil, And this one is me." He turned away. Then a cunning pupil Changed the positions. Turned the sage again: "Now this one is a devil, And this one is me." The pupils sat, all grinning, And rejoiced in the game. But the sage was a sage. . : - , - , - ... , . : - , , - , - . , . . . . : " , ". . -, , . , : " , ". , . . . - 59 - Walking in the sky, A man in strange black garb Encountered a radiant form. Then his steps were eager; Bowed he devoutly. "My Lord," said he. But the spirit knew him not. , . , , . - ! - . . . - 60 - Upon the road of my life, Passed me many fair creatures, Clothed all in white, and radiant. To one, finally, I made speech: "Who art thou?" But she, like the others, Kept cowled her face, And answered in haste, anxiously: "I am Good Deed, forsooth; You have often seen me." "Not uncowled," I made reply. And with rash and strong hand, Though she resisted, I drew away the veil And gazed at the features of Vanity. She, shamefaced, went on; And after I had mused a time, I said of myself: "Fool!"