Evening: the ruler settles upon the roost.
All day long we made this much peace. The rest
of the raw material left in the world
keeps for tomorrow.

Wise ruler at peace rests. One eye
of his closes, soon so does the other.
In his dream, as in his amusement, harm
hardly ever befalls but dispels in the air first.

Night in the roost: warm dust
improves its situation upon the breast.
Fresh straw arrived for you. Bricks, bread; so the material
world in absentmindedness governs itself.

Tomorrow the ruler keeps himself
to himself. He has a minor pride to settle
in his better nature: first he inspects his own
bright eye. All day long we make this much peace.

Faint heart! What little malice around the roost
implicates itself in peace. Improvements of mind
keep clique & critic lightly amused. Noon:
I have a matter to govern upon your breast.

Tomorrow settles upon the ruler complete peace.
Doesn't the roost wonder? Mind the absence
of the material world? This much shining day
by day we made. The ancient fresh dust befalling.