I have flown to the loftiest heights
where no rabble any longer sits at the well of delight.

Did my loathing create me wings
and fountain-dividing powers?

For this is my height and my home:
too high/too steep do we here dwell for all unclean ones and their thirst.

Cast but your pure eyes into the well of delight, my friends. It shall laugh back at you with its purity.

Add to playlist Size Tab Print Correct