That I should make
much of myself and turn it on all sides, thus casting
coloured shadows on thy radiance such is thymaya.
Thou set test a
barrier in thine own being and then callest thy severed self in
myriad notes. This thy self separation has taken body in me.
The poignant song
is echoed through all the sky in many-coloured tears and smiles,
alarms and hopes; waves rise up and sink again, dreams break and
form. In me is thy own defeat of self.
This screen that
thou hast raised is painted with innumerable figures with the brush
of the night and the day. Behind it thy seat is woven in wondrous
mysteries of curves, casting away all barren lines of straightness.
The great pageant
of thee and me has overspread the sky. With the tune of thee and me
all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass with the hiding and
seeking of thee and me.