I Am Entering Into The Truth, Into

The Cyclone Ends. The Sun Returns; The Lofty Coconut Trees Lift Up Their Plumes Again; Man Does Likewise. The Great Anguish Is Over; Joy Has Returned; The Sea Smiles Like A Child.

Happiness And Work Rose Up Together With The Sun, Radiant Like It.

The Flat Sound Of My Wooden Clogs On The Cobblestones, Deep, Hollow And Powerful, Is The Note I Seek In My Painting.

My Eyes Close And Uncomprehendingly See The Dream In The Infinite Space That Stretches Away, Elusive, Before Me.

Soon I'll Be Old And I've Done Precious Little In This World For Lack Of Time. I Am Always Afraid I'll Become Senile Before I've Finished What I've Undertaken.