If the falling of a hoof ever rings the temple bells,
If a lonely man's final scream before he hangs himself
And the nightingale's perfect lyric of happiness all become an equal cause to dance,
The Sun has at last parted it's curtain before you -
God has stopped playing child's games with your mind
and dragged you backstage by the hair,
Shown to you the only possible reason for this bizarre and spectacular existence.
Go running through the streets creating divine chaos,
Make everyone and yourself ecstatically mad for the Friend's beautiful open arms.
Go running through this world giving love, giving love,
If the falling of a hoof upon this earth ever rings the Temple Bell.
Under the apple tree . . .
How fascinating the idea of death can be,
Too bad, though, because it just isn't true.
With permission, translation by Daniel Ladinsky
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Printed on archival paper with archival ink. Edition of 200 for each size.
|11" x 14"||$250|