“His roots wrap around a rock pile,
He grasps a house of stones.

“But the falling mountain crumbles away,
And the rock moves from its place;

“O you who tear yourself in your anger—
For your sake is the earth to be abandoned,
Or the rock to be moved from its place?

“That with an iron stylus and lead
They were engraved in the rock forever!

“They are wet with the mountain rains
And hug the rock for want of a shelter.

“Iron is taken from the dust,
And copper is smelted from rock.

“Man puts an end to darkness,
And to the farthest limit he searches out
The rock in gloom and deep shadow.

When my steps were bathed in butter,
And the rock poured out for me streams of oil!