In his kingdom... lay the joyless king and the beggar smiled to every weather!

For how far will this universe pull me my lord!

Though I know not glory and I fear not shame, I share a hunger that is petty that is ‘name.’

It is me I see when the shanty of rosemary ripples through the virgin orange... the juice of sweetness I see in me, in me.

It is me I say when the rice, little, so small, swell in the futile hollowness of a colourless, bottomless even shadow-less water... I say the forgiving, swelling heart... it is me, it is me.

Yet, in the dignitaries of sorrow I see a gurgling posture that is dishonest that is untrue, for sorrow is not near me so I know not to rue.

But for how long my lord! I will stay so delight. The pain the anguish, there will come then my night.

I alight wisdom now, for what is foolish what is vain. Still it is now, when sits outside a beggar under the cruel naked rain.

Give me goodness, as the alchemy of life,

And so make me the beggar, I wish for strife!