And now it was evening. 
And Almitra the seeress said, "Blessed be this day and this place and your spirit that has spoken." 

We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us. 
Even while the earth sleeps we travel. 
We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind and are scattered. 

Brief were my days among you, and briefer still the words I have spoken. 
But should my voice fade in your ears, and my love vanish in your memory, then I will come again, 
And with a richer heart and lips more yielding to the spirit will I speak. 

The mist that drifts away at dawn, leaving but dew in the fields, shall rise and gather into a cloud and then fall down in rain. 
And not unlike the mist have I been. 
In the stillness of the night I have walked in your streets, and my spirit has entered your houses, 
And your heart-beats were in my heart, and your breath was upon my face, and I knew you all. 
Ay, I knew your joy and your pain, and in your sleep your dreams were my dreams. 

There are no graves here. 
These mountains and plains are a cradle and a stepping-stone. 

Whenever you pass by the field where you have laid your ancestors look well thereupon, and you shall see yourselves and your children dancing hand in hand. 

You are not enclosed within your bodies, nor confined to houses or fields. 
That which is you dwells above the mountain and roves with the wind. 
It is not a thing that crawls into the sun for warmth or digs holes into darkness for safety, 
But a thing free, a spirit that envelops the earth and moves in the ether. 

Forget not that I shall come back to you. 
A little while, and my longing shall gather dust and foam for another body. 

A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me. 

Farewell to you and the youth I have spent with you. 
It was but yesterday we met in a dream. 

You have sung to me in my aloneness, and I of your longings have built a tower in the sky. 

But now our sleep has fled and our dream is over, and it is no longer dawn. 

The noontide is upon us and our half waking has turned to fuller day, and we must part. 

If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song. 

And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.