None have understood you, but I understand you.
None have done justice to you — you have not done justice to yourself.
None but have found you imperfect — I only find no imperfection in you.
None but would subordinate you — I only am he who will never consent to subordinate you,
I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond what waits intrinsically in yourself.

5. Painters have painted their swarming groups, and the centre figure of all.
From the head of. the centre figure spreading a nimbus of gold-colored light.
But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its nimbus of gold-colored light.
From my hand, from the brain of every man and woman it streams, effulgently flowing forever.

6. 1 could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are — you have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyelids have been the same as closed most of the time.
What you have done returns already in mockeries,
Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in mockeries, what is their return ?

7. The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk,
I pursue you where none else has pursued you,