Between the gnarled red pine trees

Twisted in doubt and despair;

Whence do you come, pilgrims,

Over what snow fields?

To what southern province

Hidden behind dim peaks, would you go?

"Too long were the telling

Wherefore we set out;

And where we will find rest

Only the Gods may tell."

[61]

[61]

[62]

[62]

 Part III

[63]

[63]

 The Clouds

Although there was no sound in all the house,

I could not forbear listening for the cry of those long white rippling waves

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