These Have Not The Hope To Die.

Here Let Dead Poetry Rise Once More To Life.

Art, As Far As It Is Able, Follows Nature, As A Pupil Imitates His Master; Thus Your Art Must Be, As It Were, God's Grandchild.

So That The Universe Felt Love, By Which, As Somebelieve, The World Has Many Times Been Turned To Chaos. And At That Moment This Ancient Rock, Here And Elsewhere, Fell Broken Into Pieces.

In That Part Of The Book Of My Memory Before Which Little Can Be Read, There Is A Heading, Which Says: ‘incipit Vita Nova: Here Begins The New Life’.

I Saw A Point That Shone With Light So Keen, The Eye That Sees It Cannot Bear Its Blazing; The Star That Is For Us The Smallest One Would Seem A Moon If Placed Beside This Point.