What he writes poems about the suffering,
Of weakness, thirst and pain,
Continuously plays in the flames,
Enjoying the freedom of the will.
What drives life in doubt,
Piling on the questions,
Is in divine laziness
Braiding the braids eternity.
That thought Taglit waiting
Creating a snake from a rope,
Lightfoot swift deer,
In heavenly fields has a horseshoe.
What he is looking for himself in the distance
Piling and blasting obstacles
A baby plays with shadow,
And other entertainment is not necessary.