Arise! The bugle calls! It is time to leave! Woe be to the traveller who still awaits!

The confines of a monastery suit thee not: The times have changed, thou seest, and so hast thou.

Thorny is the path, O seeker of salvation! Whether thy heart is the slave or the master of reason.

The selfhood of one who bemoans all change, is yet a prisoner of time, shackled by days and nights.

O songbird! Thy song is well rewarded when it infuses fire into the rose’s bloom.