I Would I Had Thrust My Hands Of Flesh Into The Disk - Flowers Bee-Infested, Into The Mirror-Like Core Of Fire Of The Light Of Life, The Sun Of Delight. For What Are Anthers Worth Or Petals Or Halo-Rays? Mockeries, Shadows Of The Heart Of The Flower, The Central Flame All Is Yours, Young Passer-By; Enter The Banquet Room With The Thought; Don't Sidle In As If You Were Doubtful Whether You're Welcome - The Feast Is Yours! Nor Take But A Little, Refusing More With A Bashful "Thank You", When You're Hungry. Is Your Soul Alive? Then Let It Feed! Leave No Balconies Where You Can Climb; Nor Milk-White Bosoms Where You Can Rest; Nor Golden Heads With Pillows To Share; Nor Wine Cups While The Wine Is Sweet; Nor Ecstasies Of Body Or Soul, You Will Die, No Doubt, But Die While Living In Depths Of Azure, Rapt And Mated, Kissing The Queen-Bee, Life!