Body, digging deep
into the sensuous humus
of lust and pain
and far-reaching aging,
calls out to Mind,
on high, lost in dreams and schemes:

”Don't soar so high,
you only fantasize!”

but Mind replies:

”Yours is the raging, dying flesh;
you dig the mud in wretched roars!
I rise above the flesh, the time;
the Cosmos but a fair wind”