Short poems about life, oh spring of life, where is my spring, where are my waking dreams and my sleeplessness, where, oh, pasture of youth, the hopes and wishes of my youth, where are my youthful wishes? Arise, O wretched illusion, and ask. In the end, what is the value of a human being, what he exalts, and listen to what life speaks to you, for she is a teacher of discipline and jurisprudence, and focus. The school of life is eloquent, dictating lessons, and most of what it dictates. Life is like a paradise, the key to which has been locked by afflictions and monuments. And if life were to remain alive, our number would have led us astray, and if death is inevitable, then it is incapability to die a coward. Life has become a burden, and if you want it free, be of the ignorant of grievance and the brave, intrusive and crowded, and take a space for you to protect it on a day of foul and affliction. Life is a struggle in which the weak is trampled upon, what has won in its past except for the hard-to-hardened, for fading in it are afflictions, so be a vigilant boy. The universe is a healing universe. The universe is ambiguous. He tasted of it only a despicable misfortune, that life is a slumber that will end with our hopes, and sins, if we wake up, between the eyelids are the remnants of all the calamities. . . . All perish and long live peace!