hold it to my forehead and press it to my heart.

When the night grows still and stars come out one by one I will
spread it on my lap and stay silent.

The rustling leaves will read it aloud to me, the rushing stream
will chant it, and the seven wise stars will sing it to me from
the sky.

I cannot find what I seek, I cannot understand what I would
learn; but this unread letter has lightened my burdens and turned
my thoughts into songs.

V

A handful of dust could hide your signal when I did not know its
meaning.

Now that I am wiser I read it in all that hid it before.

It is painted in petals of flowers; waves flash it from their
foam; hills hold it high on their summits.

I had my face turned from you, therefore I read the letters awry
and knew not their meaning.

VI

Where roads are made I lose my way.

In the wide water, in the blue sky there is no line of a track.

The pathway is hidden by the birds' wings, by the star-fires, by
the flowers of the wayfaring seasons.

And I ask my heart if its blood carries the wisdom of the unseen
way.

VII

Alas, I cannot stay in the house, and home has become no home to
me, for the eternal Stranger calls, he is going along the road.

The sound of his footfall knocks at my breast; it pains me!

The wind is up, the sea is moaning. I leave all my cares and
doubts to follow the homeless tide, for the Stranger calls me, he
is going along the road.

VIII

Be ready to launch forth, my heart! and let those linger who
must.

For your name has been called in the morning sky.

Wait for none!

The desire of the bud is for the night and dew, but the blown
flower cries for the freedom of light.

Burst your sheath, my heart, and come forth!

IX

When I lingered among my hoarded treasure I felt like a worm that
feeds in the dark upon the fruit where it was born.

I leave this prison of decay.

I care not to haunt the mouldy stillness, for I go in search of
everlasting youth; I throw away all that is not one with my life
nor as light as my laughter.

I run through time and, O my heart, in your chariot dances the
poet who sings while he wanders.

X

You took my hand and drew me to your side, made me sit on the
high seat before all men, till I became timid, unable to stir and
walk my own way; doubting and debating at every step lest I
should tread upon any thorn of their disfavour.

I am freed at last!

The blow has come, th