Where does the camellia flower begin and end?
Of that I am uncertain.
What joy does the light of day, what fear does the night send?
Of that I cannot say.
What secret is there that cannot be told?
Of that I am not sure.
Where does my reflection go when I am away from the mirror?
Of that I am unsure.
The fox looks not for answers in the woods,
The rabbit digs and digs and reveals nothing.
But will the fox devour the rabbit.
Of that I am certain.