One short rest past we wake endlessly

I lift my lamp beside the golden door

For passion 'neath th' sparkle by way of th' midnoon sun

whilst suddenly I noticed a crowd

And on the pedestal these words appear

Beckoning me to ascend

Beside the lake beneath the trees

We share what we have and to what we belong

Thou workmanship all the more beautiful and more calm

when vintage age shall this technology waste

To serve therewith my Maker and present

But they found troubles to enjoy the whole empire lonely

I am the dream and the hope of the slave

Your blouse flouncing open in the teasing breeze

Men themselves have wondered

Dreadful tumult commotion collision conflict took place

Than ours a friend to man to whom thou sayst

not anything next to stays round the rot

Today in Japan tomorrow in Rome