Parchment! Is that the sacred fountain whence alone

There springs a draught that thirst for ever quells?

1. The Fountain

Once more to etch the fountain

And the moment of freedom

To carry the picture

To the stony Eden —

Under the ancient arches and domes

Of the Empire of scholarly dogmas.

Hi, descendant of Wagner! I entered again

Your monastery of books and the used up papers.

You remember everything. But in vain

Your zealous forehead traces

These flashing spurts. You derive

A formula from anything in your chancellery facilities,

Neglecting the phenomenon of life

That is always a fight of improbabilities.

You split and reconstruct the pulsating water

In accordance with your programmed ideals,

Being yourself the improbability of the supreme order

And a probability of the existing ideas.

2. Wagner

Ah, Wagner, Wagner!

Perhaps, you are immortal.

I see the acute roundness

Of your triangular back

Fixed in your chair-stand

While you total

Something that causes

That constant learner’s ache.

Your silhouette is sigma-like. In this native

Space your mind comprehends the sigmas.

It assumes that all diversities and negatives

Are the simple sum of the universal completeness.

The bulky safes of volumes, which are in resonance

Of my mobility, preach from a distance

How to keep our natural balance

In that polar coexistence

In which a one-day living butterfly,

No more important than a light illusion,

Will fly in, hurrying to beautify

The world both as its search and solution.

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