এই পাতাটির মুদ্রণ সংশোধন করা হয়েছে, কিন্তু বৈধকরণ করা হয়নি।
I am like a remnant of a cloud of autumn uselessly roaming in the sky, my sun ever-glorious! Thy touch has not yet melted my vapour making me one with thy light and thus I count months and years separated from thee.
It this be thine wish and if it is thy play then take this fleeting emptiness of mine, pain it with colours, gild it with gold, float it on the wanton wind and spread it in varied wonders.
And again when it shall be thy wish to end this play at night i shall melt and vanish away in the dark and in the smile of the while morning shall permeate in a coolness of purity transparent.
