O pilgrim on the path of life, br you have travelled far; br now you have come to rest br and make yourself a home; br and plant a garden there. br br You measured out the plot of land, br designed it with your love, br laid precious stones along its paths, br planted trees for shade, br beneath them, marbled seats; and br roses red as heart’s red blood, or br white as purity; scented as all beauty veiled; br among the roses, jasmine, iris, lily, honeysuckle; br and in the evening, night’s pale flowers that yield br all the scented charms of cooling dusk; br and in the centre, a fountain plashing, br ever different, ever the same, br to be the token of your resting soul.. br br now you build a wall around it, br stone by stone. Two things br I ask of you, O faithful one: br br make an arched gate within the wall br that you may not make your neighbour envious; br where you may invite him to join you, br that neighbour who is yourself disguised.. br br and as you lay each stone br to guard your peace from fox and wolf, br remember - that a paradise with walls br is but a parable, a paradigm, br for that true paradise which knows no walls; br rest there, traveller.