To the Poet

In different clearness of rays,
In addling amalgam of visions
We always live in world’s things’ reign
With its triad of space division.

And spreading borders of this life,
Or multiplying forms by fable,
To hide your I from not-I’s eyes
You will be never-never able.

This power’s your leading star,
It has your God and nature’s law,
And before it, it’s pale and far –
The Art, belittling things’ great role.

You can not flee from slaving reign
To look for charms of airy smears,
The deepness is not verse’s main,
But just a puzzle which it bears.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
So, love the clearness and rays,
In the aroma – their creation,
And cut bright bowls for the grace
And always integral receptions.