I sit on sand, ruffling with the wind;
I hear the hushes of every wave;
I feel crawling waters licking my toes;
I smell and savor the fresh, salty air —
All heralding a display in heaven.
Up there, amid the gloom of night,
Has become a rostrum of lights:
There play great Alexander,
Noble Roman emperors,
Magnificent Charlemagne,
And all the martyrs and saints;
Temujin the Mongolian,
Thunderous Napoleon,
Hard-nosed Otto von Bismarck
And all other patriarchs;
As well as honored artists
And all their grand-schemed travails.
To be a glitter that can’t be touched
Is what I am smitten with so much.
But can their vast wisdom tell me
How to shine the world from darkness
If so soon a sweet voice I hear
And if my arm feels caresses
Brushing-off all my luster?
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