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Your moods change with the moon. You experience
but don’t comprehend yourself.
Or comprehend too many things at once, watch yourself
with too many eyes while you
should look like the Buddha: blindly, fixed on the void
filled to the brim.
You set out all the same, not knowing where?
How could anyone trust
you? How could you trust yourself? Your very first step
betrays you. You’re like
the midday moon. You walk virgin paths on the far side
of yourself where no-one
can follow. Get ready for the night! Look across the Earth
with eyes turned inside out!
There are no safe estimates. No path to lead to the goal.
Where the mix
of despair, wrath and conceit poisons, the one who puts
all his eggs in the one
basket is likely to win. His victory brings a brand-new
set of rules. There
will come those who speak his lingo like a native tongue.
Keep clear
of them! Walk your sleeping city like a graveyard, so that time can
befriend you. Draw courage from this: the city
neither remembers nor
forgets but its houses mould time, and it devours
all its inhabitants in the end.