Neuf Songes

Neuf Songes
(Nine Dreams)

Richard Chambers Prescott

Grascott Publishers Seattle, Washington

Copyright 1976 All Rights Reserved Grascott Publishers

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS REGISTRATION NUMBER: TX-3-466-844

Introduction
There are nine poems that make up Neuf Songes (Nine Dreams). Each of the nine poems has nine verses, so the symbolism should be obvious to the nine Moons it takes to grow a human creature. Yet, here the growth and birth is of a psychic or psychological and spiritual birth and rebirth. This is very much in tune with Tantra and the awakening or birth of Love in human feeling. After all those self created constructions of conscious conception are seen to be ceased, this Love which has ever been, appears to come through and envelop the person. This is to subsume flesh, sex, feeling, mind, memory and consciousness within the tender spirit of Love. In Eastern philosophy you will find the principles of Tantra called Shiva and Shakti, which loosely translated indicate God and Goddess, but their meanings dive much deeper than our conscious fabrications on what we think these two words mean. In Western thought you find the words Anima, used to express the feminine nature, and Animus for the masculine nature. These are used now more in the psychological domain, their original meanings were breath and life, Anima, and soul and spirit, Animus, never separate and equally dependent upon the other to keep balance in fullness. If left in their dual import these words, East or West, eclipse the crossing over to that which is joined together in equality, undivided and complete in non-distinction.

Richard Chambers Prescott August, 2009

Neuf Songes I
Where can the artist go, But to his art, she said, He cannot recall the many ways, Yet it is all part of the whole, The whole experience expressed, This is what he wants, yet Who is he to do this? The sage sees all, He sees everything, he lives As the whole experience! 1 Tomorrow perhaps, if the gods Ordain, he will cross the path, And meet his own sageness. She said to her sister. Many teachers he has been to, Many teachers he has known, Teachers of the spiritual and the worldly. He has learned a thousand things, He knows a thousand more faces, Acquaintances and companions. 2 Another woman spoke, He knows the fragrance Of flowers and books, Of incense and poems. He know tales and days, He has many dreams And even more memories, Visions and hallucinations. He has no illusions, Only non-understanding. 3

The first spoke again, He has watched the stars And the planets, he has Seen women of a hundred Different various forms, He has enjoyed beyond words, The pleasure of both, Whether he was awake Or dreaming seas of visions, He has seen adepts in multitudes, Some rising and some setting, Like the Sun, and some just Simply like the light of the Sun. 4 Her sister spoke, He seeks The life of a king and The mendicants life as well, The two blended together as one, Like the firm plunging Of the ocean in the surf Of a womans voluptuousness And a mans passion. He longs for the liken spirit Which is feminine in nature. 5 Another sister spoke, He loves The feminine, he is lifted in this, And possesses this in such a way Its spellbinding intensity pervades, The essence of his breathe, The warmth of his life forces, The sight of his waking eye, The clothes and hair covering His body, his feet walking The earth, the ground, Even the plants and beasts, The spirits and subtle beings. 6

Her sister exclaimed, He feels A delightful emotion constantly, Infatuation with every beautiful And painful wave crashing Amidst the worldly surf, Transient as the oceans foam, Luminous as the shimmering Sun, mirrored in sea water. He is taken across every space And breathes delight and waste, Loss and conquest, silence and haste. 7 And another said, He is Elevated into pathos Merely by a child In unnoticed play, And he feels deeply The burden of dust to dust, When he gazes upon The rays of Sunlight Shooting over the Earth Like celestial stairways. His heart is cool, Showering Moon beams. 8 Then her sister said, He is Fulfilled in the small And the great, his only wish Is to express the unexpressed, To touch the untouched, To see the unseen, To taste the fragrant Shower of honey drops, The unearthly, the amazing, The unforgettable, the spiritual, The unembraced, embracing all, The intense love and understanding. 9 8

Neuf Songes II
For a long while He considered the nature Of madness and sorrow. He cried with the drifts Of days and nights. What did it mean to him? Why did it come to past? He knows now that it was rooted In a sense of longing For what exists Before ones eyes. 1 Yet everything, every judgment Upon it, every image in idea, Every singular focused sight, Every gesture toward decisions Must be rendered quiet And harmless, before It is seen, yet, is seen The right word, even Its meaning is lost In the obvious nature Of the inexplicable. 2

What is this to him? How does it face him, How does he face the other? He thinks to consider The nature of this. It might be compared To the feeling newly Risen, the love and The pleasure experience In the union of a man And woman within Their loving embrace. 3 A warrior of love, That is what I shall Call him, as he appears To conduct himself In ruthless battle Upon the field of art. Yet he does not Actually do so. He is only brought out According to the likes And dislikes of foolish Judgments and designs. 4

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The word foolish Is most correct. Foolish it is to curse And bless the obvious Simple love that touches All and has feeling in total. The secret of this warrior Is to remain like The invisible axis Of a disc that is rapidly Rotating upon its rim. 5 In human life Elixirs play rather Unusual roles. Why just Look at how so many Measure their holidays By the volume Of fermented spirits consumed During the days and nights. An ancient custom perhaps That remains as archetypal Shamanic rites for pleasure, Enjoyment indeed, it is Obvious and I think of it As something that Occurs so normally. 6

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And so he said, Just learn Gentle feminine, that etheric music Of those who eternally breathe In and within, the makers Of delight inside themselves Is a far greater elixir. Once thoroughly intoxicated With this excellent elixir, One never need nor care About any other there may be. 7 Then she replied, Could we ever Deny to submit ourselves To the forces ever continuing As natural forms of energy, Terrestrial is effect, Celestial in cause? Can you really neglect The fact that all life Anywhere, is born from the stars, Those astronomical bodies That fill time and space With seconds, minutes, hours, Days, months and years Upon years, for distance, Traveling on into infinity. 8 His tender voice answered, The sounds of birds On a lonely afternoon Makes me feel eternity. The clouds move In the celestial winds And the blue background Appears to act, As the great artists canvas. 9

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Neuf Songes III

Days of rains, Like Paris in November, Days of cool Sun rays Breezes of seven years, Like Austin long ago, These remind me fast Like dreams of past. They remind me of times When I was a seeker Dreaming deeply, struck By visions of actual grace. 1 Let there be a sentimental Remembrance, it is Only of feelings that Remain and thoughts That sustain my own Mind, that ghost! Hear him tinkling The wine bottles Late in the dark, Reaching out to grasp Young women walking Sidewalks in the afternoon. 2

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He contemplates quickly The mystic lover long Continuing through times Ancient and modern of history And women touch his thighs And put their heads upon His shoulders, one long Tressed lady upon each Side of his heart, That turns about Like a planet, reflects Like the Moon, revolves Like cluster of stars. 3 She is an old friend, A deep, deep sea, a Knowledge of himself, He touches the sculptress Hand and holds her Gently, his eyes See through her nakedness. She blushes when The sage hears she Is to bear a child And laughs gracefully Aloud with mystic humor. 4

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He sits alone with infinity, While women roam for Love and lovers and For each other. Here upon the upper porch Of the mansion near The sages home, pecan trees Dropping their fruit, bells Ringing in the distance, Airs moving gentler into Cooler moments of thought, Shocked amazed, I am Silent, speaking not For thirty years, every word Reveals Happiness, every gesture Is Nirvana, yet all sages Have no name, no form, Their bodies rise within A wonderful light, they Drift their minds, like Pieces of iron, to the magnet Of the unchanging sense. 5

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A vertical movement upward, The unexpressed becomes Expressed, the voice grows Beyond vastness, within The most gigantic sea, Swallowing cosmos upon Undiscerned multiples Of growing and fading Universes, the unexpected Is inevitable, spontaneous, At once beyond systematic logic Which moves forward to The future, backward into The past, set in the present, Horizontal in perceptions, The expected point of view. To the eye of a sage, a leaf Blown by the wind, becomes Something alive, awake, Moving like a wave within The ocean of full light. 6 Even as a woman, whose Love cannot be sought Or won after, it is so intense, Overwhelming, the breathe Filling the organic, The fire churning the Psychic winds. She is The earth, the substance Of miraculous birth, The residue left after The dissolution of dreams And she is the mirror Of mirrors, the actress, The plaything and The object seen, grasp Her, she is so real, See her in every gaze. 7

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He exclaims how madly She possesses the triad Dimension of things, How compassionate is her Ecstasy, more delight filling Than Indras favorite drink, The elixir of the god Soma. Mistake not his graces Or hers, the foreheads Of preceptors melt like The currents of the etheric, The waves of the ocean, They are submerged into The formless radiance, And sleep for three days, Entranced there and locked Up, sealed off from illusion, Until they awake, without Waking, becoming utterly Obvious to natural sense. 8

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Look into the night sky. See the crystal clear Moon, She is spellbinding, A disc of white radiance. Her reflection upon water, The still slow moving River or ocean, is illusion. The stars, the sky lights, The whole background, The deep darkness, Upon the water is Certainly illusions wealth. The Moon is in the sky. The sky lights are of the sky. The illusion is below, The Moon is above, Yet like twin sisters They are seen as the same. Their splendid birth giving Is a pleasant and perfect dream For the most particular Sight of certain sages. 9

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Neuf Songes IV
Look at his crown, A thousand suns Within every hair Upon his head And that fine firm Posture, like a rock, Where waves of dreams Pass over him, as he Sits steady like the deep ocean In hurricanes and storms! 1 Whose history is this? Whose journal of days And final conclusions Of wonders that were? I know ten thousand Years of dreams, and Bullfinch said that it Was all in his head! Of stars and men, Of men and calendars, A turning wonderful dream, Think of it! 2 All within a simple photograph, A cigarette in his hand, A smile on his face and eyes that look Like the rarest pearls In the universe! Travel to other planets, You will find the same there. He lived near the sea of Arabia. 3 19

I think fine things are said everyday, By poor and by rich alike, By ignorant and intelligent, Yet who can discern The psychology of illusion, The adversary, the prosecuting attorney In the court of the time Space theater? Let him Have his ground. Let God Have his, let the rest Have theirs and let A single star illuminate the sky, But still wonder about it, Still wonder deep. 4 Oh, it is an Italian sonnet, Indeed, made of iambic tetrameters And quatrain verses. What nonsense! Words have no structure, Sounds break open like flutes Played by musicians Who have practiced For a thousand years. 5 What a fool! What an idiot fool he is, The atlas of his mind Is full of ups and downs, Ins and outs, and he has A thousand books In his memory. But who really knows What makes a flower? 6

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Who can truly see A flame burn Like an ember In a room Where there are No airs moving about, As still as An Egyptian tomb. My cloak of images Sings the same. It covers the place Where I dream With designs Of Oriental pharaohs Who wandered the skies And wondered about All life and all time. 7 A thousand women Visited him there, A thousand with different Colors of hair, some Were colored with blue Resembling Jupiter, some Were colored with blue Resembling Venus, and some, Some of their auras Were like the Moon. Yet they were The same blue. 8

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Are you hypnotized Little ram of Aries? Do you swim deep My Piscean fish? The garland of cosmologies Is only a rapture In the anatomy of the gods, Some mysticism of the serpent, Some forgotten poet From Antediluvian times. Remember, never drink wine On the day of emptiness, Where nor Sun and Moon exist! 9

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Neuf Songes V
I held two voluptuous Dreams in womanly embrace. I talked with Donovan too. I listened to Kali Bahlu. I heard Shelly remember The Daemon of the World. I heard Byron pray The tales of Don Juan. I heard Lord Alfred recall The Idylls of the King. 1 I saw human swans, Aireal creatures dance, In a staged performance When the spirit Etherial Wheeled a ballet of magic With a moonlike consort, While priests and magicians Festive in manner and ceremony Acted a drama of six days Which was a sextet of nightmares. 2 I felt the flesh of beasts, And watched courtesans Entertain demon passions. In the midst of wealth, We see a rise in time, Where woman carries A lover within her mind, And changes the course Of Mars and Saturn Moving blessings and curses. 3

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Everyone must walk Their own wooden ladders. Everyone must carry their stones In the constellation of circles. Every aireal feather floats up, Every earthly spirit returns, And women raise children, Leave their mothers, striving To be sisters of the Sun, Resembling flaming tongues Lusting to touch the waters Progeniting these fluid dreams. 4 I have heard the dreams Reeling in other minds. I have found that all fools Are oblivious certain genius And all the wives of Sultans Perform differently, when Rendering certain miracles Of sudden moments lasting Like the hackling ghosts Sealed in the stones Of Draculas cold castle, Turned into ragged rubble. 5

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Everyone walked swiftly Through the rains of sorrow. They all fell quiet, silent, Dull and dumb, blissfully Remembering the delight In the passive sensation The cajolery utopia of woman. I have walked rapidly In their own sandals, And saw many husbands For one wife searching Those potent pleasures reviving The amulets of stern reason Within their juggling mist. 6 Dreams are outrageous illusions, But walking the paths, sensual Alluring, fascinating the flesh, Influencing the seven fountains Of flowing enchanting sensations, Burns all dreamers daring To gaze upon the visions Raying forth as elements In a monks delightful madness, A thousand cobras changed Into as many fabulous women And so much of these men Were transformed in a wink To worshippers of oblivions Wonderful forgotten memory. A sleeping star awakened. 7

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The poet is blind To unholy miracles. He is deaf, hears not The sounds of sacred voices. Every hour he dies. Every hour he lives. He is submerged afloat the ocean of Space! Young woman tell me How far do your dreams Pervade the sea of visions? Do white stallions Trample through your heart Raising and driving Those ultimate currents Breathing waves of ecstasy? 8

The clock's round measure Means nothing to me! Those twelve instant moments Move backward and forward, Cease and begin and cease. I have nothing to do With that ridiculous invention! I am always here, It is always now, Silence always chimes At my numberless hour. There are no mark's In my palm's destiny. There were no sky planets At the moment of my birth My mother's mother's daughter Never came to be born This myth has never occurred! 9 26

Neuf Songes VI
Something supernatural! Something unearthly! Something Unforgettable! The burning Sun, The rays of the Moon, To the wanderer Lost in the desert, An ocean of Space, A cerebral Vastness, A blossoming flower. 1 Surely reason paints The tattoo picture of her mystery. Surely feeling takes her By the utter touch Of its sensation. Look! Gaze, wonder, See, see that crystal clear Flower ball of enchantment, That swallows these waves, Whose tears fill to the brim, This underwater world. 2

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Is it her remembrance, A stumbling memory Or a forgotten vision Of certain things We take without receiving, Things that we see In the simple objects Inside a room. Oh, how quiet, How far forgotten it is Though it remains as The sight of the eye, The sound of the ear, The focus of intensity, Yet, somehow asleep, We deeply forget. 3 She polishes perfectly The window of sapphire, The wall of silver Until those grasshoppers May leap right through it And flutter freely within the hard as rock air That fills the heaving breathe. Heaven is this instant, Nothing passes before it, Nothing is felt after, The grasshopper vanishes. 4

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Her secret carouse No one ever suspects, Her fantastic madness Amidst the hidden faces Drawn upon the voices That emanate from children. Her afternoons are preparation For the rising stars of night. She swallows twin faced bulls Whose mimicry is singular. What utter treacherous intent, The adverse is benefic, The benefic is adverse, A question answered By the twin crescents Circling the face of the Moon. 5 Six thousand fathoms The space of her sorrow Measures through time, The flow of her veins Rushes with the wine of sadness, Her anguish is not conceived. A million starving mouths Tear at her womb, She will never forget The strength of the Earth, Even though she gazes At the halo moons of Jupiter And the phases of the stars And knows the seasons And all the days passing... Her tears still run from her eyes. How sorrowful, how much Like a rose taken from Spring. 6

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When three monks sit together She listens from behind the curtains. They count and conceive Certain images of flowers, Seven roses grow Within the mind of each And when she hears them try to talk about it She quietly laughs, knowing Passion moves, powers stay, Emptiness engulfs everything, But the heart, the flower That rises, the two-winged bird, The questionless answer, Where thousands of marriages Finally join together And the last thing said is, They are not two! 7

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She embraces realization! The diadem back of the serpent That swims these cosmic waters Glistening under the luminous rays, Separates, each side of his spine Becomes another serpent, and From the middle arises a star, At least resembling the texture Of a star, with the shape and The face of a woman, whose figure Moves her mythic venture, Her race, her solar chariot, Drawn by the two serpents, So fast that she cannot be seen By naked eyes. Yet quickly, Without a sense of time, When she grows tired of her sport, She returns, holding the memory Of her lover within her mind And when she reaches him, They explode, yet one instant Before that moment without sense. The say, We are not two. 8

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Something supernatural! Something unearthly! Something unforgettable! She dances a thousand Impossible gestures, She roars like a lion, She sings like a goddess And subtle spirits in millions Spurn within the atmosphere Of her radiant blue aura. She possesses the multitudes, The galactic cities of space, Inexorable controller, perched Upon the flower of the head, Whose feet rest upon the cushion Of the mystery workers heart, Your triple faced performance Is delightful wonder perceived By the unbearable essence in me! 9

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Neuf Songes VII

I felt that rising sensation, It was the marriage day, I broke into an empty space, I lost, I won, I cried, I cried , how I cried, My senses torn from The peaceful void, My vision shattered With admittance of birth. They were joyous and The they cried, how Amazed I was to die! 1 You wept, the desperate voice Spoke, the lost child cried, We live and die, we pass Yet for time, we cry, Then laugh, in spite of it, The illusion is swept away, Dust on the floor, gone, The days live no more, The nights dawn, the cool Stars are alone, I shattered The cries of desecrations. 2

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She lives, I yelled, She lives for more in me. I passed downward, and Then arose, remembered, By the simple gesture, Two dozen roses made. The day her father carried Her down the stairway, The god awaited in showers, He spoke and said, I come To be born, the gift of thought Burns and beats upon This unborn chaste breast. 3 What is your reason? They asked in return. He answered with tears, Your solemn vows preclude The destiny of your fate. My reason has gone, I am everything, You make the space Where we breathe and I am cast upon the shore, Drift well, my gentle illusions. 4

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You utterly fantastic myths, You search for wonder, That master, that original one From which all things are cast. And how does it cast itself, How is a flower cast upon a tree And how is the form of a cloud Cast in the sky, The time of that event, The minute, the hour, the day, The year, the geography of That magical display? 5 The casting of like images, The seductresses sport, What tenderness embraces this, The sensation of the dream, The dream, the dream, If only the fool would refrain From his measuring, From his belief, does He believe, does he see? 6 It is, no belief can Capture this experience, No thought, no feeling turned, No mind transformed. Spontaneous is her movement, A moment before waking The sun rises up, the airs Awake, the cosmic trees cling, They cling as she does, To the utter moment of it. She responds brightly To the natural response. 7

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Let her have her way, Let her pass through these rains. She is surely the one Who cares for this child. I would drown upon This timely vision endured Through the eons of space, Easily I sink into her, Sporting. she plays, I say let her have her way! Fishermen do have tales They tell, mermaids born From Neptunes powerful wish! 8 Do you hear her voice My gentle listeners? She commands the sounds Of fluids in the veins of leaves, The form of sitar and tabla notes, The smoke rising, circling In the whirlpools of airs, The texture of every stare, That seeks to find The simple decline Of the time born Within this thought of mine. 9

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Neuf Songes VIII

She rouses her twelve angels, They rise up and sink back With her earnest wish, The fiery breathed ram, The solid forceful bull, The twin brother and sister, The crustacean in the surf, The kingly lion, The virgin pure, The woman of scales, The scorpion turning Into the Phoenix, The archer, one with the horse, The goat with a fishs tail, The man pouring water And the two fish Swimming forward and backward. 1 They rise up, when she awakes The circular wheel spins, Her twelve faithful ones, Who move the spectrum orb, She saw first, their faces Painted in the heavens. Her vision multiplied, The Earth became, at once, The centuries of her memory, History was made from A lock of her hair, and The stars of space came Alive when she opened Those two invisible eyes. All this came to life and mind When she arose from her dreams. 2 37

I saw them come with speed. The billion-fold masses wrapped Themselves un into her breathe, How fine was her form, In gesture so perfect. She took me so fast, I forgot my own name. Her dance rocked the bones Of men and sky spirits too. I could see her passions Shake the core of the Earth And burn the hearts of the living Like the core of a tree engulfed Within the starvation of flames. How hungry she was To devour them within Her supernatural ecstasy. 3 She comes from within, Her pleasant thirst enthralls The shapes of mens dreams. Every time they sleep They enjoy her form. They turn to the left And gaze at her face. They turn to the right And gaze at her face. On every side she appears In everywhere they seek her. She faces them clearly, A vision of passion, A forgotten oblivion. Her fine figure endures And cannot be held, The arms grasp nothing, The eyes, the little pearl mirrors Are radiant filled. 4

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No explanations conceive, Such tenderness that comes Forth from her essence. She predicts within you The triad revolutions And the behavior of This luminosity unseen. You walk upon a street Seeing flowers everywhere. You walk among seekers, Then down a road, You hear a voice, Come be with me here. This speech rises from A man with a black coat Whose hair is disheveled, Silver, with white radiance. Then monks with no faces Reach out for you Where you sleep at night, The room is filled with poltergeists And enormous roses Blossom between your eyes. 5

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This mysterious procession Must be within time, As waves upon an eternal sea, Whose water composes Such an amazing fluid Substance, which we should Drink deeply to our brims And then more, even more, Like those who drink wine Must symbolize as artists The flow that they take Within from the glass Which stands without. This is the pleasure within, The touch of lovers Near the oceans sounds Who paint music Between themselves. 6 This is the beginning This, the end, the forgotten Always remembered, The music of lovers, Heard by the spirits That linger in the air, Waiting for loves passion To bring them forth, To carry them there To the sea of wine. I saw it flow In such a way The eyes cannot see. The Suns rays touched The color of her hair, Etheric angels danced By her ears and Gave me the feeling That comes, when Memory has forgotten. 7

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You are born of love, You die in love. Love takes you Before and after She comes or goes, And you say nothing, Everyone agrees and You are left alone. Alone by the sea. The waves sing to you, They chant day and night The song of lovers Who gather together. I grew within her, She grew within me, The world moves, Yet we stand unchanged. There is no sense to it, It makes the world, A senseless game. 8

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I speak the future Whispered to her ears. I see her with my eye, She has appeared. The grace of her flesh Is filled by my dreams, Her love is profound, There are wings on her eyes And the marks of Shiva Between her brows. I have reached to her, Embraced with her And held her there, As a rock holds itself. Then she took my hand With her head on my lap, She has reached to me, and Then I have lost myself, Though my eyes still see And my face still feels The airs of her voice. 9

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Neuf Songes IX
He saw all the sisters Gathered up into his eyes. He spoke with them And answered to them, Then saw his dreams Rise out forth from them. He remembered his words That were spoken before The man and woman merged Into each other, here, From his world of love, Unborn and being born, He saw the whirlwinds Cease within utter silence 1 Everything came to him By love sent and returned. It rose up on him Like a creeper vine grasping Up and around a tree. He saw thousands of years Lost, and love between Men and women move To the music of waves Always rising back To break the future With past dreams That linger in the air As spirits in the ether. 2

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Those who wait another life, Who are neither young not old, Who have limbs yet cannot Walk nor grasp another, Except within some radiance That is cool warmth That draws them into The very passions that drive Natural essences to mix, By the serious folly of women And men who have life Enough well grown to meet These mysterious moments That capture swift rays Growing out of oblivion. 3 It is the self born tenderness, The heart moving in silent passion, That sees the coming and hears The leaving of natural memories. Amazing is the beauty brought Into the senses of passion, Then like seeds in the earth, Moistened by rain and wind, The gentle spirits chant The emergence of the carriage The semi-divine chariot, Riding the twelve hours Moving the flower petals That mourn these sights and sounds And churn the motions of seas, Mountains, suns and moons. 4

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I feel her within the earth, I feel her within the sky. I feel her within the deep stars. Her face grew over me, She moved within my dreams, And I saw her again, More vividly than before. She hangs within the chest, Like flowers upon a tree, That dives upward into The cavern of the sky, Full of dark moist clouds, The burst open in rains, Like babies from wombs. 5 Imagine a real dream, This dance through a field, With blossoming poppy flowers. You are enchanted there, The flesh, the feelings, even The dreams and visions. Sixteen youthful girls, Electric-like virgin stars Dance around you and Bath you in white milk, And sing to you, and Gently caress those firm limbs. Then you rise up to touch The Sun above your face, Only to reach into thin air, And find yourself waking To the morning Sun, with Warm rays through the window. 6

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To find another dream, The most eloquent poetess Whispers in your ears, This little measure will Ride the skies of the Earth. Can voices rise from where There are no faces seen? She rouses your dreams. This must be some circus Of angels in complete folly, Serious only for the sight And sound of no eyes or ears. Yet dreams are pleasant enough They speak of their own world. 7 The music they were made to play Was written by one poet. He was born of woman, He was born of stars, Yet he was born of himself. The seven notes are his voice, They change in such moods, And move, making his music. This is like his bed, where He appears to sleep and dream. She is like his wife, caressing Him within their oneness. So rise like the most powerful, The thunderbolt of music. 8

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We sat around this lotus, Which floated through air, Just as if it were on water. Everything was said to be Just natural, and being here. The women standing around Were like flowers and fragrance. The flavor of the sweet cakes And the apple clusters Was real enough to me. I returned the natural way, The way in which I came, At first, and afterwards, I remained, dreaming these Dreams, watching the winds That did bring the rains. 9

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