You rushed straight to the sun [growth/shoots]

From afar: From the depths Of the sky, At the edge Of times and Events, A call, a summons Straight Inward, Straight To the heart: Into the spirit-blade. You Stood still, And you Felt it deeply, Were stunned — But then You roused yourself, As if A seagull Above The water. You shine Like a white Moon, A ray Rushes Before you, Illuminating The foam Of the sea. You Came here With the sunset, And Until the morning Dawn, You will Work fervently, In The fields Of the heavenly Meadow. You Raced straight Toward The sun, And Drank in Essence The earth. In it You sowed Many seeds — Can you Grow them all? Is there Enough life? Or Is your Road Too wide? Enough Light and Warmth — Did a rainbow Appear on your path? Flax and linden? And has the buckwheat Bloomed and faded? Have you Collected honey Into the combs? Are the Swallowtail butterflies Still alive? Is the Guitar string Broken? Has the Violin’s fingerboard Not cracked? Has all Your sprout Grown? Or Has it withered At the root? Or the Exquisite thoughts That are Fit only For a king?