  The sign work of the Orient it runneth up and down, The Talmud stalks from right to left, a rabbi in a gown; The Roman rolls from left to right from Maytime unto May, But the gods shake up their symbols in an absent-minded way. Their language runs to circles like the language of the eyes, Emphasized by strange dilations and with little panting sighs. There are symbols set as signals for unbarricaded lips, Emblems manifesting merits thrilling to the finger tips. The very serpents bite their tails; the bees forget to sting, For a language so celestial setteth up a wondering. And the touch of absent-mindedness is more than any line, Since direction counts as nothing when the gods set up a sign. |
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