'COME AND HIRE me,' I cried, while in the morning I was walking on the stone-paved road. Sword in hand, the King came in his chariot. He held my hand and said, I will hire you with my power.' But his power counted for nought, and he went away in his chariot. In the heat of the midday the houses stood with shut doors. I wandered along the crooked lane. An old man came out with his bag of gold. He pondered and said, I will hire you with my money.' He weighed his coins one by one, but I turned away. It was evening. The garden hedge was all aflower. The fair maid came out and said, I will hire you with a smile.' Her smile paled and melted into tears, and she went back alone into the dark. The sun glistened on the sand, and the sea waves broke waywardly. A child sat playing with shells. He raised his head and seemed to know me, and said, I hire you with nothing.' From thenceforward that bargain struck in child's play made me a free man.
HALF ASLEEP ON the shore you dreaded the voice of Tempest when he thundered in your ears his 'No'. You had said to each other that the shore had its plenty, the house had its comfort, when suddenly grinding his flashing teeth Tempest growled 'No'. But I have made Tempest my comrade and left my shore, my ship tosses on the sea. I have trusted the Terrible, have filled my sails with his breath and my heart with his assurance that the shore is there. He cries to me, 'You are vagrant even as I am myself, Victory to you.' Things are shattered to pieces scattered by the wind, the timid murmur in despair, 'The end of time has come.' Tempest cries, 'Only that remains which is utterly given away.' With trust in him I march forward, I look not back while the hoarded heap is swept away by flood. My traveller's reed is tuned with the tune of his loud laughter, it sings: Away with lures of desire, with bonds that are fixed, with the achievement that is past and hope that is idle. Learn for your drum the dance-time of the reckless waves beating against rocks. Away with greed and fear, with tyranny's banner borne by slaves. Come Divine Destruction, drive us away from the house, from safety's easy path. Come with the flutter of your wings of death, spread upon the wind your cry 'No'. No rest, no languor, No load of feebleness weighing down the head. Knock and break open the miser's door. Scatter away the musty gloom of storage, banish the self-distrust that seeks a hole wherein to hide, and let your trumpet proclaim in the wind your terrible cry 'No'.
