I have been a multitude of shapes, Before I assumed a consistent form.
Old is man when he is born and young, young ever after.
From warriors ravens grew red And with their leader a host attacked.
Let them make their war. Whence come night and day? Whence will the eagle become gray? Whence is it that night is dark? Whence is it that the linnet is green? The ebullition of the sea, How is it not seen?
I praise the Lord, the Sovereign of the royal realm, Who has extended his sway over the tract of the world.
Reaper of enemies; strong of grip; One kind with his fathers.
Monks congregate like dogs in a kennel, From contact with their superiors they acquire knowledge, Is one the course of the wind, is one the water of the sea? Is one the spark of the fire, of unrestrainable tumult? Monks congregate like wolves, From contact with their superiors they acquire knowledge. They know not when the deep night and dawn divide. Nor what is the course of the wind, or who agitates it, In what place it dies away, on what land it roars.
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