MOUNTING THE BULL, SLOWLY I RETURN HOMEWARD.
THE VOICE OF MY FLUTE INTONES THROUGH THE EVENING.
MEASURING WITH HAND-BEATS THE PULSATING HARMONY,
I DIRECT THE ENDLESS RHYTHM. WHOEVER HEARS THIS MELODY WILL JOIN ME.

COMMENT:
THIS STRUGGLE IS OVER; GAIN AND LOSS ARE ASSIMILATED.
I SING THE SONG OF THE VILLAGE WOODSMAN,
AND PLAY THE TUNES OF THE CHILDREN.
ASTRIDE THE BULL, I OBSERVE THE CLOUDS ABOVE.
ONWARD I GO, NO MATTER WHO MAY WISH TO CALL ME BACK.