THE ADVENT OF THE SUPERMAN
O Quiet is the wind yet something stirs Between our world and heaven?s starry skies A spirit, shall I say, that knows a form Beyond all that which beauty can describe; A whole expanse of night pervades my sight Disturbing naught that seeks of silent rest, And yet withal I feel a wondrous thing Upon the vision of unopen?d eyes That now proclaims the portent of our fate: The needs of life have made of us a span And we shall from our ashes, phoenix-like, Cry, ?Hail the advent of the superman.?
When I bestow beneficence upon man, He distances himself from me. When I heap calamities on his head, He draws nigh.
Ode to Unchastity
Unchaste girls are not unchased, But unchased girls are chaste; The unchased have no time to waste, For they've faced to their distaste If they don't make haste to become unchaste, They'll remain unchased and waste.