White doves


Only that which is in proportion is eternalized in time.
Everything that is within, travels in time and remains in search.

Each man is a searcher in time,
But in the end, there remain eternal searchers in the wind of their own restlessness
And eternal carriers of the peace of one another.

As long as search exists, the new always wins over the old,
But ones the new meets the old and is the same,
The circle of time is concluded and the search over.

Once everything is found and put into the ratio,
Two white doves meet in the sky of their own oblivion,
Announcing the peace for all that is searching.
But man, due to whom nothing was put into the ration,
Becomes an eternal search.

At any given moment, the shooting star of eternity is available,
But always a day, eternity at will.

Among many choices, there are only two;
You in front of many or many in front of you.

As long as man is alone with himself, he is always restless;
Only once he forgets himself, is he peace to someone.
And some day, when he leaves himself completely, the peace above everything
And at peace with everything,
Like white doves in the sky of their own oblivion.