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To: smolejv@gmx.net who wrote (5318)	1/30/1999 4:21:00 PM
From: MonsieurGonzo	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 11051

RE:" Das Glasperlenspiel " *The Last Glass Bead Game Player* The coloured beads, his playthings, in his hand, He sits head bent; around him lies a land Laid waste by war and ravaged by disease. Growing on rubble, ivy hums with bees; A weary peace with muted psalmody Sounds in a world of aged tranquility. The old man tallies up his coloured beads; He fits a blue one here, a white one there, Makes sure a large one, or a small, precedes, And shapes his Game ring with devoted care. Time was he had won greatness in the Game, Had mastered many tongues and many arts, Had known the world, traveled in foreign parts- From pole to pole, no limits to his fame. Around him pupils, colleagues always pressed. Now he is old, worn-out; his life is less. Disciples come no longer to be blessed, Nor masters to invite an argument. All, all are gone, and the temples, libraries, And schools of Castalia are no more. At rest Amid the ruins, the glass beads in his hand, Those hieroglyphs once so significant That now are only coloured bits of glass, He lets them roll until their force is spent And silently they vanish in the sand. -Hermann Hesse, "Magister Ludi", 1943 ...sent to us courtesy of our friend DJ in Germany (^_^) -Steve