Sanasai! The Mother of Distinct Nations with Common Myths
Sanasai!
An anonymous southern land
A faraway south eastern land
A remote south eastern land
In a drifting ocean….
Appearing the sun and moon on a cannibal island
Sanasai!
The mother of distinct nations with common myths in Taljouwan
The same tongue of an unspoken origin
The snakes emerged
Tangling the gloomy sky of hundred folds
Crawling the dark ground of thousand miles
Only pair of brother and sister remained
Potsok and Raya
Embracing and burgeoning the light amid heaven and earth
The penis up-heaved the great loneliness
A stone-like hard glans with red blood vessels
Sucking the water from the hole of vulva
The secretion
Spraying and submerging a flood
Could not be blocked
Producing the descendants
Flood was a regret of no subsidence
Potsok and Raya
Naked to prostrate on the top of Tamima
The high waves impetuously rushed Tamima through Sanasai
in the bottom sea
Initiated an unknown grand drift of ocean
How many layers of waves drifted?
How deep the trench flowed?
How distant the sunbeam, moonlight and starlight floated?
Tamima anchored aside Kavorongan
An island in the sea
Descending the Spring and Autumn
Appearing the Summer and Winter
The flood subsided
By countless time
Kavorongan, the island
Protruding the Mt. Da Woo
The beginning the insignificance
The meaning was discovered unexpectedly
Island found the width of sea
Drifting found the weariness of origin
The blowing wind found the ambient tranquility
Fire found the temperature of air
Cold and heat found the countenance of weather
Quietness found the root of sound
Thirsty felt the heat relieved by water drinking
Hunger and repletion felt the deficiency and suffice
Potsok and Raya
Down the mountain abiding at Panapanayan
No grains there
Yet plenty the grains in Votol
Potsok and Raya stretched out from Panapanayan
Through the banyan tree
Overseas to Votol
They stole the grains hiding in the ear at first time
Failed by the discovery of the Votols
The second time hiding in the mouth
Failed again
They third time hiding in vagina and foreskin
Successfully brought back the grains
To thank for Votol
Panapanayan honored a rite to Votol
At the seashore of Katunuman
By contributing wine, grains and Parisi on altar
Every year after harvest
Kavorongan Mt. Da Woo
The sacred mountain of Potsok and Raya
A resurrection of drifting lives
Panapanayan honored a rite to Kavorongan
By contributing wine, grains and Parisi on altar
Drifts showed gratitude to mountains
The freeze of the waves
The direction of the ridges
The tide altered, exchanging
The firmness and commitment of land
Thank to Votol by implanting grains
Grain is the golden light of sun rising above the ocean
Crystallized from the east island in every dawn
Grain is profusion
A divine protector of the nation
Spreading the hundred thousands of grain clusters
The descendants of Potsok and Raya
The first son Tipso-raya
The second daughter Tamoho-raya
The third daughter Sumaor-raya, bred son Avora and daughter Rumon
The forth daughter Takid-raya
The fifth son Torisuris-raya
The sixth son Apotoko-raya
The seventh son Avango-raya
The eighth son Sung-raya
The first son Tipso-raya became North wind
The second daughter Tamoho-raya became South wind
The third daughter Sumaor-raya became West wind
Her son Avora became Snow and daughter Rumon became Rain
The forth daughter Takid-raya went north
Became the ancestor of Volaka(western people) and Ripon (ancestor of Japanese)
The fifth son Torisuris-raya went to Long Kiau
Became the ancestor of Pairang
The sixth son Apotoko-raya
Overseas from Green Island to Monkey mountain
Then migrated to Arapanai
Becoming the ancestor of Puyuma
The seventh son Avango-raya north bounded to Da Kang Ko along the coast
Becoming the ancestor of Rarangus and Tsiopur
The eighth son Sung-raya north bounded to Hua Lien along the coast
Becoming the ancestor of Kariawan
poem by Catherine Yen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
At the bus station in Kota Raya
Here at the bus stop going to Kota Raya
the colors of the skin of the people are many
if your diaper is borrowed
others may mistake it as theirs along the way.
================================
D inhi sa Bus Stop padung sa Kota Raya
Ang bulok sa panit sa mga tawo daghan
Kung ang imong sapin hinulaman baya
Basin sa dalan ikaw pagahubuan.
- LEO BOB FLORES
Bukit Batok, Singapore
poem by Leo Flores, translated by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scared Of Myself
Oh how I wish it would end
All of the sceraming
That you all do when I'm
In that deep sleep state of dreaming.
Try as I do to drown out the screaming
Of all of you with my syncronized snoring
And I'm too self-centered and spastic
To open my eyes to the signs of warning.
Those signs of warning
That you put up clear enough for me to see
They're saying that I'm hating who I'm becoming
A spastic-self-centered-b! tch, not quite like I used to be.
I wanted to be different
Then that girl I knew a year ago
But I think I took it too far
Because I've become someone I do not know.
I'm Scaring myself
Maybe even more then I'm scaring any of you
I'm so scared, I need some help
Because I have no idea what to do.
I hate my life, I whisper to myself
As i stare at the cieling, While Lieing on my back
Then i begin to write you a love note
But i only get three words in, before everything went black,
I Am Sorry.....
November 17/08
poem by Raya McManus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jangan maksa
Jangan maksa cuma keinginan kita
Kalau kamu juga tidak mau dipaksa-paksa
Jangan maksa bersikap ceria
Kalau sedang tak ingin tertawa
Jangan maksa ngebut di jalan raya
Kalau nantinya malah celaka
Jangan maksa kelihatan kaya
Kalau hanya untuk gaya
Jangan maksa apa pun juga
Karena hasilnya pasti sia-sia
Jangan maksa tentang rasa suka
Karena cinta datang dengan rela
Jangan maksa tetap menderita
Karena hati bisa lebih keras dari baja
Jangan maksa tapi tanpa usaha
Karena keberuntungan bukan cara
Jangan maksa semua harus sempurna
Yang penting bermakna dan berguna
Jangan maksa anak-anak cepat dewasa
Biarkan mereka tumbuh apa adanya
Jangan maksa merasa punya kuasa
Tetap bersama saja sudah luar biasa
Jangan maksa menjadi serupa
Berbeda bukan hal yang hina
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who is the Best..?
Once there was this Rishi
Living under a banyan tree
Meditating on Him, all his life
Alone, without worries or wife..
It was a sunny day, bit hazy
Rishi was relaxed and lazy
A mouse came running and fell at his feet
A cat came chasing to eat
The mouse prayed 'Gimme shelter or u sin'
The cat said 'Protecting my food is no less a thing'
Rishi had to decide one way or other
Rishi blessed the mouse to be his daughter
The daughter grew into a beautiful woman
Time came for Rishi to think of her man.
He asked the daughter for any criteria or test
She said she wanted only the Best
Best of a man is a Rishi, said the father
Not really so, said the daughter
When Rishi said, better than a Rishi is the only Sun
No, said the daughter, not the burning hot one!
Rishi asked the Sun, if he knows anyone better
The Sun said, try the Cloud, it hides my power
When Rishi told her of the Cloud's valor
No, said the daughter, I hate the dark color
Rishi asked the Cloud, who betters it
The Cloud said, surely the Wind, it blows me out
Rishi asked the daughter, if Wind is her choice
No, said the daughter, It just makes noise.
Rishi asked the Wind, for a better person
The Wind said, It is the immovable Mountain
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mountain passes her test
No, said the daughter, full of trough and crest
Rishi asked the Mountain for the best in the land
The Mountain said, It is the Mouse that crushes it to sand
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mouse is her groom
Yes, said the daughter, I love his eyes that zoom..
Rishi made his daughter back into a mouse
They married and lived in a hole as their house
The Best for a mouse is mouse, for Rishi a Rishi, for crook a crook
It depends on what you look out for; your outlook!
poem by TheBigThinkg Human
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The King's Daughter
WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.
The first to spin, the second to sing,
Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.
The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.
The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.
The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.
By there comes the king’s young son,
A little wind in the mill-water;
“Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,”
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.
“Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,”
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.
He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.
“Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,”
Running rain in the mill-water;
“And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,”
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Im The Girl
Ive got a memory
A thousand years old
And I know secrets
Ive never been told
And Ive got jewels
I havent found
And theyll return me
To the ground
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
And Im a siren
Ill wreck you on my shores
And Im godiva
Ill call you back for more
And Im medusa
And Im your favourite doll
And Im a georgia okeefe
Hanging on your wall
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter before
And I remember being born just sound and light
And sound and light and light
And I remember the first time, skin on skin in the arms
In the arms of the night
Well how many times have we looked up into the starry skies
And how many times have we felt the passion rise
Every ruby-lipped girl baby, old lady, squaw junkie, girl after girl after girl
Every muse, whore, good witch, princess, back arching, year after year after year
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im the girl, Im the girl, Im the girl
You know me
Im joan of arc
Im the girl next door
Im the mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
The mother and the daughter
Of the mother and the daughter
Before.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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PRINCE of my Heart
Most annoying around dining table
Lovely mom singing a same song
When, when, when
Worrisome miss traditional wedding
After a long stay in hospital bed
Preferred a prince of my heart
Modern wedding plan in mind
But mom dreaming Sumatra prince
Traditional culture of ancestor
Insomnia in dilemma
Dying mom nor prince
Would never be wounded
What should I do
Humming in hospital bed
Wish to inaugurated an Ulos scarf
Unique traditional wedding
And sing Borhat ma Dainang @
Before going to heaven
Dark cloud, flying to Sumatra island
To bury her in ancestor's land
My cheeks never stop wet
Her dream never come true
But God answered our prayers
No more pain, she RIP
Blessed me God, blessed me mom
With a prince of my heart
@ Good bye my dear daughter
poem by Pinondang Situmeang
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Hour Glass
As grains start to fall, everything is new.
Nothing is known about what to do.
As the pile of grains continues to grow,
It seems easier to know which way to go.
When grains approach a quarter of the way,
Things appear less black and white versus an earlier day.
But the world is exciting and there’s plenty of time.
Any thoughts of the hour glass give way to the sublime.
Pleasure, money, power and love battle for share,
While the grains at the top become increasingly rare.
At half way flowing grains take on a resounding force,
Though few pay attention as they race on their course.
Mental and physical factors band together as reminders,
But many still prefer to continue using their blinders.
As the grains accumulate to their three quarters state,
The niave and unprepared are in for a sad, brutal fate.
They still act as if they have power over the grains and the glass.
Nothing could be more wrong as the last few grains pass.
For matter not the importance or the manner of any man
When his last grain falls, the hour glass won’t turn over again.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Islands
Earth, stream and tree encircled by sea
Waves sweep the sand from my island.
My sunsets fade.
Field and glade wait only for rain
Grain after grain love erodes my
High weathered walls which fend off the tide
Cradle the wind
To my island.
Gaunt granite climbs where gulls wheel and glide
Mournfully glide oer my island.
My dawn brides veil, damp and pale,
Dissolves in the sun.
Loves web is spun - cats prowl, mice run
Wreathe snatch-hand briars where owls know my eyes
Violet skies
Touch my island,
Touch me.
Beneath the wind turned wave
Infinite peace
Islands join hands
neathe heavens sea.
Dark harbour quays like fingers of stone
Hungrily reach from my island.
Clutch sailors words - pearls and gourds
Are strewn on my shore.
Equal in love, bound in circles.
Earth, stream and tree return to the sea
Waves sweep sand from my island,
From me.
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mountain Men
The poacher and his daughter
Throw soft shadows on the water in the night.
A thin moon slips behind them
As they pull the net with no betraying light.
And later on the coast road, I meet them
And the old man winks a smile.
And who am I to fast deny the right
To take a fish once in a while?
I walk with them, they wish me luck
When I ship out on the sunday from the kyle.
And from the church I hear them singing
As the ship moves sadly from the pier.
Oh, poachers daughter, sunday best,
Two hundred brave souls share the farewell tear.
Theres a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
Back to the land where I came from.
Where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Did my tour, did my duty. I did all they asked of me.
Died in the trenches and at el alamein
...died in the falklands on t.v.
Going back to the mountain kings
Where the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Long generations from the isles
Sent to tread the foreign miles
Where the spiral ages meet.
Felt naked dust beneath their feet.
Future sun called winds to blow
And the past and present hard-eyed crow
Flew hunting high and circling low over blackened plains of eden.
Theres a child and a woman praying for an end to the mystery.
Hoping for a word in a letter
Fair wind-blown from across the sea
To where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for eveything.
Theres a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
Back to the land where I came from.
Where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Where the real mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Feel the naked dust beneath my toes
While the future sun calls winds to blow
And the past and present black-eyed crow
Flies hunting high and circling low
Between dream mountains of our eden.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My South Africa
Where the ancestor's spirits lives forever
Saluting Madiba for his endeavour
The dawn of freedom colours the eastern sky
Awake South Africa it's my cry
A nation lazy and lethargic is a slave
A bright future is to save
Unity the hope of our future
Rise my people its time to toil.
Where the Lions roars in the jungles
And the Leopards seek its prey.
The buffaloes laze in the waters
And the rhino guards its territory.
Elephants graze the vast lands
Trumpeting the divine call
See Africa's big five
A land of nature's gift
Where gold and diamonds brings money
A country of milk and honey
Maize relives peoples hunger
Wines evoke joy and laughter
Grow sunflower for our oil
Nature rewards this fertile soil
Blessed you are to till this land
South Africa's wealth will expand
Where dark clouds gather on the horizon
Helped by the winds of change
The hot sun wait's the passer by
The rain brings wanted relive
With running rivers green goes our land
Gifted with all seasons
A land of divine choice
South Africa shall lives for ever
Where the two oceans meet
Embracing the mother city
Table Mountain is elite
Serves a vision very pretty
Many came from east and west
Made history sailing by
Near an island of contest
City of passion and beauty
Where freedom was taken and given
Many sailed the seven seas
Black and white is we
Living with predators and prey
Some stayed to live forever
Made a culture of today
South Africans is one nation
Proud and happy as can be
poem by Jayram Daya
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A Walk
February on the narrow beach, 3o
A.M. I set out south. Cape Cod Light
on its crumbling cliff above me turns
its wand of light so steadily
it might be tolling a half-life,
it might be the second-hand
of a schoolroom clock,
a kind of blind radar.
These bluffs deposited by glaaciers
are giving themselves away
to the beaches down the line, three
feet of coastline a year. I follow
them south at my own slow pace.
Ahead my grandfather died
in a boat and my father
found him and here I come.
If I cleave to the base of the I berm
the offshore wind swirls grit
just over my head and the backwash
rakes it away. If I keep going
south toward my grandfatherís house
in Chatham, and beyond,
the longshore current grinds the sand
finer the farther I go. It spreads
it wider and the beaches sift
inland as far as they can go
before beachgrass laces them down
for now. It gets to be spring,
I keep walking, it gets to be
summer. Families loll.
Now the waves are small; they keep
their swash marks close to home.
A little inland from the spurge
and sea-rockets my tan sons kick
a soccer ball north, against
grains that may once have been
compacted to sandstone, then
broken back to grains, bumbling
and driven and free again,
shrinking along the broadening edge.
poem by William Matthews
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There Is This Island
there is this island
a very small island where i once escaped
away from the death that the crowd has inflicted
there is this lonely island
where the only house i have is just an old chair
and throughout the nine full moons i simply sit there gazing
looking at the small tree the leaf of which is only one
its veins too tiny for my eyes to love
it gets lonely here most of the time but i owe all my life to this very small island
it saved me once from the death inflicted on me by the crowd
my body becomes a geisha of gratitude
my mouth becomes the kiss of the slave woman to the nth power of Abram
i live in this island and on the last dropp of the day
i become forever
there will be another north star in the heavens
and it shall have my own name
there is this island shaped like a heart and it sheds blood because it is real
i am but a white grain of sand
perhaps, but i have become this grain of gratitude and i have become a star
forever hanging on the heavens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poseidon
Poseidon
(Return To Atlantis II)
(Follow the warm and subtle breeze,
as it will show you life under the seas…)
Travel to any destination along the coast,
here an old and undying love does boast.
Stroll on the beach and watch the tide,
and you will realise two worlds confide,
see how the water fondly caresses the sands,
my daughter held snugly in my hands.
I was born below the crashing waves,
it was there that I built my conclaves.
Deep under the water you will find,
the secret of the birth of mankind,
from beneath the oceans rolling surf,
my sea servants gave life to the Earth.
Around the island of Atlantis,
my wife; Amphitrite, and I did kiss,
from there she swam to the surface,
came upon the shore and birthed Artemis,
there my daughter made the land her domain.
Now an outcast by her servants of global fame,
I try to soothe her as she has lost her home,
as her woodland heart is now replaced by stone,
so I send out a plea to you from under the sea,
oh please will you return my daughter to me.
poem by Dale Mullock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Myself a Sea-gull
I threw the net in the ocean of experience, on the bank of life.
The net is but my poetry;
I sat on the chill soft sand.
Contemplating i sat on the shore of life.
I cast the net, yonder i see the waves of the sea appearing like the waving green fields.
And the foam and surf of the sea
Resembling the grains at the top, in the fields of ocean's coast.
The sea-field has the eternal harvest ready with the surf grains.
To be reaped by the sea-gulls flying like the silver-sickles
I will also love the sea of life let me become a sea-gull
Wading and flying through- singing the song of the surging sea of life;
poem by Minnoor srinivasan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Island In The Sea
there is this island
a very small island where i once escaped
away from the death that the crowd has inflicted
there is this lonely island
where the only house i have is just an old chair
and throughout the nine full moons i simply sit there gazing
looking at the small tree the leaf of which is only one
its veins too tiny for my eyes to love
it gets lonely here most of the time but i owe all my life to this very small island
it saved me once from the death inflicted on me by the crowd
my body becomes a geisha of gratitude
my mouth becomes the kiss of the slave woman to the nth power of Abram
i live in this island and on the last dropp of the day
i become forever
there will be another north star in the heavens
and it shall have my own name
there is this island shaped like a heart and it sheds real blood because it is real
i am but a white grain of sand
perhaps, but i have become this grain of gratitude and i have become a star
forever hanging on the heavens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under A Blanket Of Stars...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
The Power Of The Beach
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
I Am The Beach...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
Under A Blanket Of Stars
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'