The way always requires going up the hills. And when you go, it rushes you and hurries. It spreads out like a
Look at the masterpiece, an artist paintsHe’s copying the entities on canvas.He sees our cheerless routine and accepts,Expressing all its beauty with
The all this questions: Where’s the start? And where’s the edge? To find the answers, nobody can help. But I was told
The golden road is not for Anybody to go. And how to find it somewhere, This secret’s been forgotten, forgotten long ago.