Your Old Men Will Dream Dreams
Regard that old man sleeping over there His nasal snores, his silver strands of hair That streak in patches all along his face And that stale smell…
Regard that old man sleeping over there His nasal snores, his silver strands of hair That streak in patches all along his face And that stale smell…
Being itself, boundless beyond all form Without any essence, soundless speaks Across the chaos of the raging waves Bringing every being out of nothing. Beauty itself, incomprehensible…