Till the waves rest still on the sand,
And my words are all turned to silence,
I walk through the world of beauty,
As one who has seen its wonder.

And from all life and death
I learn the blissful first truth –
The word that ends or begins all,
In whispering or howling.

Do all lips long to speak?
Do all clouds want to rain?
With quiet questions I find in my dreams
I play on the stage of all beings.

And if our wings should hold us
Far apart or savagely embraced,
Through the marvelous universe,
We will stand still and contemplate each other.

Part of me sees you, the other is blind
For this is I – the Harlequin:
One half of me to make you laugh,
The other half to make me cry.

Woland: So, this is your psalm – your faith put in rhyme? Is it a riddle?
Deroude: Yes, it’s a riddle.
Woland: Do tell! A riddle for Mona Lisa! So it’s a test – if she passes, then Hallelujah! this is the truth, the one truth that you have always refused to acknowledge: there is a True Alter Persona, a love of your life. It is a worthy challenge. But are you worth it?
Deroude: I would never challenge her. I am certainly not worth it – not worthy of her, to be sure. But my arguments, my arms, my wit – they all rest defeated. So it is not Mona Lisa whom I challenge, it is destiny – yet another concept I have constantly and obstinately rebuked. If such thing exists and in it is written that she of all people will be the one to know the riddle’s answer, then I submit to the destiny’s trail. And to her forgiveness, for I must have been a fool.