In the evening between sleep and waking
I met one traveling. He was the light of consciousness.
His body was soul, his pure wisdom apparent
in his beautiful face.
He praises me for a while, then scolds.
You sit on the seven-sky throne, in prison.
The sign of Gemini has set a table for you,
yet you stick your head down a drainhole again.
Essence is not nourished with food and sleep.
Do no one any harm in this timefield
of short crops where what you sow comes up very quickly.
You try to accomplish things, to win,
to reach goals. This is not the true situation.
Put the whole world in ambition's stomach,
it will never be enough.
Assume you get everything you want.
Assume you have it now. What's the point?
The next moment you die.
Friend, the youth you have lived is ending.
You sleep a dreamless sleep
with no sense what morning you could wake inside.