On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The
infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is
boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with
shouts and dances.
They build
their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With withered
leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know
not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl-fishers dive for
pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and
scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not
how to cast nets.
The sea
surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a
mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
On the
seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless
sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and
children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of
children.
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