Life Is A Quest And

All My Life, Following Care Along The Dusty Road, Have I Looked Back On Loveliness And Sighed.

I Am Not A Tentative Person. Whatever I Do, I Give Up My Whole Self To It.

Life In Itself / Is Nothing, / An Empty Cup, A Flight Of Uncarpeted Stairs. / It Is Not Enough That Yearly, Down This Hill, / April / Comes Like An Idiot, Babbling And Strewing Flowers.

Not For The Flag Of Any Land Because Myself Was Born There Will I Give Up My Life. But I Will Love That Land Where Man Is Free, And That Will I Defend.

Earth Does Not Understand Her Child, Who From The Loud Gregarious Town Returns, Depleted And Defiled, To The Still Woods, To Fling Him Down.