What Good Is It To Live A

Bronze Is The Mirror Of Form, Wine Of The Heart.

On Him Who Wields Power Gently, The God Looks Favorably From Afar.

Human Prosperity Never Rests But Always Craves More, Till Blown Up With Pride It Totters And Falls. From The Opulent Mansions Pointed At By All Passers-by None Warns It Away, None Cries, 'let No More Riches Enter!'.

Courage! Suffering, When It Climbs Highest, Lasts Not Long.

On Me The Tempest Falls. It Does Not Make Me Tremble. O Holy Mother Earth, O Air And Sun, Behold Me. I Am Wronged.