I don't know what Nature is: I sing it. I live on a hilltop in a solitary whitewashed cabin. And that's my definition.

If at times I say that flowers smile
And if I should say that rivers sing,
It's not because I think there are smiles in flowers
And songs in rivers' running...
It's because that way I make deluded men better sense
The truly real existence of flowers and rivers.

Because I write for them to read me I sacrifice myself
at times...
To their stupidity of feeling ...
I don't agree with myself yet I forgive myself
Because I'm solely that serious thing -
an interpreter of  Nature -
Because there are men who don't understand its language,
Being no language at all.