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.