I died from the mineral and became a plant;
I died from the plant, and reappeared in an animal;
I died from the animal and became a man;
Wherefore then should I fear?
When did I grow less by dying?
Next time I shall die from the man,
That I may grow the wings of angels.
From the angel, too, must I seek advance;
All things shall perish save His face
Once more shall I wing my way above the angels;
I shall become that which entereth not the imaginations.
Then let me become naught, naught, for the harp string crieth unto me,
Verily unto Him do we return...