Proud bones such as yours the world finds rare;
These are the crags of a true eccentric.
You wield your brush like a roof beam, propelled by wine;
From out your bosom pour rugged rocks.

In the world's audience hall, the simple blade of grass sits on the same carpet with the sunbeams, and the stars of midnight.

In the end, he 'mounted a beam of sunlight and in the flicker of a moment flew away into the sky... He turned his face to look back and sent forth a light ray of immeasurable loving-kindness...

Proud bones such as yours the world finds rare;
These are the crags of a true eccentric.
You wield your brush like a roof beam, propelled by wine;
From out your bosom pour rugged rocks.