Try it again and then forget,
Leaving all your attempts behind;
Don't ask the Oracle at last
Of your success to set off --
Do it in advance --
Neither the tortoise shell
Nor the yarrow stalks know fuss.

Just stop before you start
And think of your ultimate task
That hides behind the narrow hatch
Of your pathetic fate --
Your pathway threads along the flat
Like a mirror tableland
You've lost in broad daylight, though.

You still believe in Lord
Who supposedly has
An endless number of miracles
Hidden in His bosom and deep sleeves,
But, as it usually goes, a needle turns
To be bigger than a haystack
You're looking for thoroughly.

First your road is flat and straight,
But then you start to see its pits
And bumps. It wheels you round
Until you reach your end
In complete disappointment
Of your unpretentious fate.

There is no funnier end
Than that of your primitive story:
With neither knowledge of things
Nor any trust in fame and glory --
You get confused
In a very simple challenge. . .

Don't dwell in hope
But hit the road, they tease you.
See, your pathway is curving
In the dark of the thicket --
Don't be scared of the dark,
As it is best to take your time
And stop for a while
Before you start the journey.