You ask why I make my home in the mountain forest, And I smile, and am silent, And even my soul remains quiet: It lives in the other world Which no one owns. The peach trees blossom. The water flows.
Her eyes were kindled from the lamps of Heaven. Her voice reached through me, tender, sweet and low: An angel's voice, a music of its own. And in the center, great wings spread apart, more than a thousand festive angels shone, each one distinct in radiance, and in art.