Plunge into the deep without fear, with the gladness of April in your heart.

I hope to leave behind a few poems it will be hard to get rid of.

The child ever dwells in the mystery of ageless time, unobscured by the dust of history.

Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.

In the mountain, stillness surges up to explore its own height. In the lake, movement stands still to contemplate its own depth.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.