The newborn enters a greater glory,
Previous worlds bid him farewell,
They entrust him a more majestic task —
Not to stumble as an abortion, but to keep growing.

The lower pushes, the upper awaits,
Today the sprouts, tomorrow the fruit.
Which? Consciousness decides,
The level of truth it managed to reach.

Truth consists in the striving,
At every stage it renews the banner.
Pleasure is in the process, not in attainment,
That is why I do not regret that I did not attain.