“Where is heaven? you ask me, my child,-the sages tell us it isbeyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of dayand night; it is not of the earth. But your poet knows that its eternal hunger is for time andspace, and it strives evermore to be born in the fruitful dust.Heaven is fulfilled in your sweet body, my child, in yourpalpitating heart. The sea is beating its drums in joy, the flowers are a-tiptoeto kiss you. For heaven is born in you, in the arms of the mother-dust.”