Despondency breaks off its course.
Anguish breaks off its course.
The vulture breaks off its flight..
The eager light streams out,
even the ghosts take a drink..
And our paintings see daylight,
our red beasts of the ice-age studios..
Everything begins to look around.
We walk in the sun in hundreds..
Each man is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone..
The endless ground under us..
The water is shining among the trees..
The lake is a window into the earth.