42/I
[1923–1924]
Seated securely on the solid pillar
Of the verses in which I remain,
I have no fear of the endless future influx
Of times and oblivion;
For the mind, when it steadfastly sees in itself
The reflections of the world,
Becomes malleable clay, and it is the world
That creates art, not the mind.
Just as the external instant engraves its being
on the photographic plate, and there endures.
163
[21 November 1928]
Fate, deny me anything but the chance to view my fate,
For, lax stoic that I am,
On the sentence engraved by Destiny I wish
Simply to enjoy the lettering.