“Where is the friend's house?” asked the horseman just at dawn.

The Heavens paused.

A wayfarer took the bright branch from his lips,

conferred it on the darkness of the sands,

pointed with his finger to a poplar tree and said,

"Just before that tree

there is a garden path greener than God's dreams.

In it there is love as wide as the blue wings of true friendship.

You go on to the end of the path that takes up again

just beyond maturity,

then turn toward the flower of loneliness.

Two steps before the flower,

stop at the eternal fountain of earthly myth.

There a transparent terror will seize you,

and in the sincerity of the streaming heavens

you will hear a rustling.

High up in a pine tree,

you will see a child

who will lift a chick out of a nest of light.

Ask him,

'Where is the friend's house?'"