We Are In Truth But

We Are In Truth But Pieces On This Chess Board Of Life, Which In The End We Leave, Only To Drop One By One Into The Grave Of Nothingness.

I Hide My Distress, Just Likethe Blessed Birds Hide Themselveswhen They Are Preparing To Die. Wine! Wine, Roses, Music And Yourindifference To My Sadness, My Loved-one!

The Revelations Of Devout And Learn'd Who Rose Before Us, And As Prophets Burn'd, Are All But Stories, Which, Awoke From Sleep They Told Their Comrades, And To Sleep Return'd.

So When That Angel Of The Darker Drink, At Last Shall Find You By The River-brink, And, Offering His Cup, Invite Your Soul Forth To Your Lips To Quaff-you Shall Not Shrink.

And This I Know; Whether The One True Light Kindle To Love, Or Wrath Consume Me Quite, One Flash Of It Within The Tavern Caught Better Than In The Temple Lost Outright.