When A Writer Is Born Into A

I Have No Wisdom, No Skills, And No Faith But I Received Strength, It Tears The World Apart. I Shall Break, A Heavy Wave, Against Its Shores And A Young Wave Will Cover My Trace.

Vulgarized Knowledge Characteristically Gives Birth To A Feeling That Everything Is Understandable And Explained. It Is Like A System Of Bridges Built Over Chasms. One Can Travel Boldly Ahead Over These Bridges, Ignoring The Chasms. It Is Forbidden To Look Down Into Them; But That, Alas, Does Not Alter The Fact That They Exist.

Only A White-haired Old Man, Who Would Be A Prophet Yet Is Not A Prophet, For He's Much Too Busy, Repeats While He Binds His Tomatoes: No Other End Of The World Will There Be, No Other End Of The World Will There Be.

Evil Grows And Bears Fruit, Which Is Understandable, Because It Has Logic And Probability On Its Side And Also, Of Course, Strength. The Resistance Of Tiny Kernels Of Good, To Which No One Grants The Power Of Causing Far-reaching Consequences, Is Entirely Mysterious, However. Such Seeming Nothingness Not Only Lasts But Contains Within Itself Enormous Energy Which Is Revealed Gradually.

Not That I Want To Be A God Or A Hero. Just To Change Into A Tree, Grow For Ages, Not Hurt Anyone.