The way which the superior man pursues, reaches wide and far, and yet is secret. Common men and women, however ignorant, may intermeddle with the knowledge of it; yet in its utmost reaches, there is that which even the sage does not know. Common men and women, however much below the ordinary standard of character, can carry it into practice; yet in its utmost reaches, there is that which even the sage is not able to carry into practice. Great as heaven and earth are, men still find some things in them with which to be dissatisfied. Thus it is that, were the superior man to speak of his way in all its greatness, nothing in the world would be found able to embrace it, and were he to speak of it in its minuteness, nothing in the world would be found able to split it.


                          My days still linger, slow and rough
                          Each moment multiplies the sadness
                          Within the heart of hapless love
                          Disturbing all the hopes of madness
                          I'm silent; not a word I breathe.
I weep, my tears -- my consolation
My soul, held captive by the grief
Still finds delight in this sensation.
No longer do I care if life goes by,

The sorrow of my love is dear to me-
O, hollow phantom into darkness flee;-
If I die loving, then I pray let die!




                          I still remember that amazing moment
                       You have appeared before my sight
                       As though a brief and fleeting omen,
                       Pure phantom in enchanting light.

                       Locked in depression's hopeless captive,
                       In haste of clamorous processions,
                       I heard your voice-- soft and attractive.
                       And dreamt of your beloved expressions.

                       Time passed. In gusts, rebellious and active,
                       A tempest scattered my affections
                       And I forgot your voice attractive,
                       Your sacred and divine expressions.

                       Detained in darkness, isolation,
                       My days would slowly drag in strife.
                       With lack of faith and inspiration,
                       With lack of tears, and love and life.

                       My soul attained its waking moment:
                       You re-appeared before my sight,
                       As though a brief and fleeting omen,
                       Pure phantom in enchanting light.

                       And now, my heart, in fascination
                       Beats rapidly and finds revived:
                       Devout faith and inspiration,
                       And tender tears and love and life.

 
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