1
My fancies are fireflies, —
Specks of living light
twinkling in the dark.
2
The voice of wayside pansies,
that do not attract the careless glance,
murmurs in these desultory lines.
3
In the drowsy dark caves of the mind
dreams build their nest with fragments
dropped from day's caravan.
4
Spring scatters the petals of flowers
that are not for the fruits of the future,
but for the moment's whim.
5
Joy freed from the bond of earth's slumber
rushes into numberless leaves,
and dances in the air for a day.
6
My words that are slight
my lightly dance upon time's waves
when my works havy with import have gone
down.
7
Mind's underground moths
grow filmy wings
and take a farewell flight
in the sunset sky.
8
The butterfly counts not months but
moments,
and has time enough.
9
My thoughts, like spark, ride on winged surprises,
carrying a single laughter.
10
The tree gazes in love at its own beautiful
shadow
which yet it never can grasp.
11
Let my love, like sunlight, surround you
and yet give you illumined freedom.
12
Days are coloured vbubbles
that float upon the surface of fathomless
night.
13
My offerings are too timid to claim your
remembrance,
and therefore you may remember them.
14
Leave out my name from the gift
if it be a burden,
but keep my song.
15
April, like a child,
writes hieroglyphs on dust with flowers,
wipes them away and forgets.
16
Memory, the priestess,
kills the present
and offers its heart to the shrine of the
dead past.
17
From the solemn gloom of the temple
children run out to sit in the dust,
God watches them play
and forgets the priest.
18
My mind starts up at some flash
on the flow of its thoughts
like a brook at a sudden liquid note of its
own
that is never repeated.
19
In the mountain, stillness surges up
to explore its own height;
in the lake, movement stands still
to contemplate its own depth.
20
The departing night's one kiss
on the closed eyes of morning
glows in the star of dawn.
21
Maiden, thy beauty is like a fruit
which is yet to mature,
tense with an unyielding secret.
22
Sorrow that has lost its memory
is like the dumb dark hours
that have no bird songs
but only the cricket's chirp.
23
Bigotry tries to keep turth safe in its
hand
with a grip that kills it.
Wishing to hearten a timid lamp
great night lights all her stars.
24
Though he holds in his arms the
earth-bride,
the sky is ever immensely away.
25
God seeks comrades and claims love,
the Devil seeks slaves and claims
obedience.
26
The soil in return for her service
keeps the tree tied to her,
the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.
27
Jewel-like immortal
does not boast of its length of years
but of the scintillating point of its
moment.
28
The child ever dwells in the mystery of
ageless time,
unobscured by the dust of history.
29
Alight laughter in the steps of creation
carries it swiftly across time.
30
One who was distant came near to me in the
morning,
and still nearer when taken away by night.
31
White and pink oleanders meet
and make merry in different dialects.
32
When peace is active swepping its dirt, it
is storm.
33
The lake lies low by the hill,
a tearful entreaty of love
at the foot of the inflexible.
34
There smiles the Divine Child
among his playthings of unmeaning clouds
and ephemeral lights and shadows.
35
The breeze whispers to the lotus,
'What is thy secret?'
'It is myself,' says the lotus,
'Steal it and I disappear!'
36
The freedom of the storm and the bondage of
the stem
join hands in the dance of swaying
branches.
37
The jasmine's lisping of love to the sun is
her flowers.
38
The tyrant claims freedom to kill freedom
and yet to keep it for himself.
39
Gods, tired of their paradise, envy man.
40
Clouds are hills in vapour,
hills are clouds in stone, —
a phantasy in time's dream.
41
While God waits for His temple to be built
of love,
men bring stones.
42
I touch God in my song
as the hill touches the far-away sea
with its waterfall.
43
Light finds her treasure of colours
through the antagonism of clouds
44
My heart to-day smiles at its past night of
tears
like a wet tree glistening in the sun
after the rain is over.
45
I have thanked the trees that have made my
life fruitflul,
but have failed to remember the grass
that has ever kept it green.
46
The one without second is emptiness,
the other one makes it true.
47
Life's errors cry for the merciful beauty
that can modulate their isolation
into a harmony with the whole.
48
They expect thanks for the banished nest
because their cage is shapely and secure.
49
In love I pay my endless debt to thee
for what thou art.
50
The pond sends up its lyrics from its dark
in lilies,
and the sun says, they are good.
51
Your calumny against the great is impious,
it hurts yourself;
against the small it is mean,
for it hurts the victim.
52
The first flower that blossomed on this
earth
was an invitation to the unborn song.
53
Dawn—the many-coloured flower—fades,
and then the simple light-fruit,
the sun appears.
54
The muscle that has a doubt if its wisdom
throttles the voice that would cry.
55
The wind tries to take the flame by storm
only to blow it out.
56
Life's play is swift,
Life's playthings fall behind one by one
and are forgotten.
57
My flower, seek not thy paradise
in a fool's buttonhole.
58
Thou hast risen late, my crescent moon,
but my night bird is still awake to greet
thee.
59
Darkness is the veiled bride
silently waiting for the errant light
to return to her bosom.
60
Trees are the earth's endless effort to
speak to the listening heaven.
61
The burden of self is lightened
when I laugh at myself.
62
The weak can be terrible
because they try furiously to appear
strong.
63
The wind of heaven blows,
The anchor desperately clutches the mud,
and my boat is beating its breast against
the chain.
64
The spirit of death is one,
the spirit of life is many,
Whe God is dead religion becomes one.
65
The blue of the sky longs for the earth's
green,
the wind between them sighs, 'Alas.'
66
Day's pain muffled by its own glare,
burns among stars in the night.
67
The stars crowd round the virgin night
in silent awe at her loneliness
that can never be touched.
68
The cloud gives all its gold
to the departing sun
and greets the rising moon
with only a pale smile.
69
He who does good comes to the temple gate,
he who loves reaches the shrine.
70
Flower, have pity for the worm,
it is not a bee,
its love is a blunder and a burden.
71
With the ruins of terror's triumph
children build their doll's house.
72
The lamp waits through the long day of
neglect
for the flame's kiss in the night.
73
Feathers in the dust lying lazily content
have forgotten their sky.
74
The flowers which is single
need not envy the thorns
that are numerous.
75
The world suffers most from the
disinterested tyranny
of its well-wisher.
76
We gain freedom whrn we have paid the full
price
for our right to live
77
Your careless gifts of a moment,
like the meteors of an autumn night,
catch fire in the depth of my being.
78
The faith waiting in the heart of a seed
promises a miracle of life
which it cannot prove at once.
79
Spring hesitates at winter's door,
but the mango blossom rashly runs our to
him
before her time and meets her doom.
80
The world is the ever-changing foam
thet floats on the surface of a sea of
silence.
81
The two separated shores mingle their
voices
in a song of unfathomed tears.
82
As a river in the sea,
work finds its fulfilment
in the depth of leisure.
83
As a river in the sea,
work finds its fulfilment
in the depth of leisure.
84
Thy shy little pomegranate bud,
blushing to-day behind her veil,
will burst into a passionate flower
to-morrow when I am away.
85
The clumsiness of power spoils the key,
and uses the pickaxe.
86
Birth is from the mystery of night
into the grerater mystery of day.
87
These paper boats of mine are meant to
dance
on the ripples of hours,
and not to reach any destination.
88
Migratory songs wing from my heart
and seek their nests in your voice of love.
89
The sea of danger, doubt and denial
around man's little island of certainty
challenges him to dare the unknown.
90
Love punishes when it forgives,
and injured beauty by its awful silence.
91
You live alone and unrecompensed
because they are afraid of your great
worth.
92
The same sun is newly born in new lands
in a ring of endless dawns.
93
God's world is ever renewed by death,
a Titan's ever crushed by its own
existence.
94
The glow-worm while exploring the dust
never knows that stars are in the sky.
95
The tree is of to-day, the flower is old,
it brings with it the message
of the immemorial seed.
96
Each rose that comes brings me greetings
from the Rose of an eternal spring.
97
God honours me when I work,
He loves me when I sing.
98
My love of to-day finds no home
in the nest deserted by yesterday's love.
99
The fire of pain tracse for my soul
a luminous path across her sorrow.
100
The grass survives the hill
through its resurrections from countless
deaths.
101
Thou hast vanished from my reach
leaving an impalpable touch in the blue of
the sky,
an invisible image in the wind moving
among the shadows.
102
In pity for the desolate branch
spring leaves to it a kiss that fluttered
in a lonely leaf.
103
The shy shadow in the farden
loves the sun in silence,
Flowers guess the secret, and mile,
while the leaves whisper.
104
I leave no trace of wings in the air,
but I am glad I have had my flight.
105
The fireflies, twinkling among leaves,
make the stars wonder.
106
The mountain remains unmoved
at its seeming defeat by the mist.
107
While the rose said to the sun,
'I shall ever remember thee,'
her petals fell to the dust.
108
Hills are the earth's gesture of despair
for the unreachable.
109
Though the thorn in thy flower pricked me,
O Beauty,
I am grateful.
110
The world knows that the few
are more than the many.
111
Let not my love be a burden on you, my
friend,
know that it pays itself.
112
Dawn plays her lute before the gate of darkness,
and is content to vanish when the sun comes
out.
113
Beauty is truth's smile
when she beholds her own face
in a perfect mirror.
114
The dew-drop knows the sun
only within its own tiny orb.
115
Forlorn thoughts from the forsaken hives of
all ages,
swarming in the air, hum round my heart
and seek my voice.
116
The desert is imprisoned in the wall
of its unbounded barrenness.
117
In the thrill of little leaves
I see the air's invisible dance,
and in their glimmering
the secret heart-beats of the sky.
118
You are like a flowering tree,
amazed when I praise you for your gifts.
119
The earth's sacrifical fire
flames up in her trees,
scattering sparks in flowers.
120
Foretsts, the clouds of earth,
hold up to the sky their silence,
and clouds from above come down
in resonant showers.
121
The world speaks to me in pictures,
my soul answers in music.
122
The sky tells its beads all night
on the countless stars
in memory of the sun.
123
The darkness of night, like pain, is dumb,
the darkness of dawn, like peace, is
silent.
124
Pride engraves his frowns in stones,
loe offers her surrender in flowers.
125
The obsequious brush curtails truth
in diference to the canvas which is narrow.
126
The hill in its longing for the far-away
sky
wishes to be like the cloud
with its endless urge of seeking.
127
To justify their own spilling of ink
they spell the day as night.
128
Profit smiles on goodness
when the good is profitable.
129
In its swelling pride
the bubble doubts the turth of the sea,
and laughs and bursts into emptiness.
130
Love is an endless mystery,
for it has nothing else to explain its.
131
My clouds, sorrowing in the dark,
forget that they themselves
have hidden the sun.
132
Man discovers his own wealth
when God comes to ask gifts of him.
133
You leave your memory as a flame
to my lonely lamp of separation.
134
I came to offer thee a flower,
but thou must have all my garden,—
It is thine.
135
The picture—a memory of light
treasured by the shadow.
136
It is easy to make faces at the sun,
He is exposed by his own light in all
directions.
137
Love remains a secret even when spoken，for only a lover
Truly knows that he is loved．
138
History slowly smothers its truth,
but hastily struggles to revive it
in the terrible penance of pain.
139
My work is rewarded in daily wages,
I wait for my final value in love.
140
Beauty knows to say, 'Enough,'
barbarism clamours for still more.
141
God loves to see in me, not his servant,
but himself who serves all.
142
The darkness of night is in harmony with
day,
the morning of mist is discordant.
143
In the bounteous time of roses love is
wine,—
it is food in the famished hour
when their petals are shed.
144
An unknown flower in a strange land
speaks to the poet:
'Are we not of the same soil, my lover?'
145
I am able to love my God
because He gives me freedom to deny Him.
146
My untuned strings beg for music
in their anguished cry of shame.
147
The worm thinks it strange and foolish
that man does not eat his books.
148
The clouded sky to-day bears the visior
of the shadow of a divine sadness
on the forehead of brooding eternity.
149
The shade of my tree is for passers-by,
its fruit for the one for whom I wait.
150
Flushed with the glow of sunset
earth seems like a ripe fruit
ready to be harvested by night.
151
Light accepts darkness for his spouse
for the sake of creation.
152
The reed waits for his master's breath,
the Master goes seeking for his reed.
153
To the blind pen the hand that writes is
unreal,
its writing unmeaning.
154
The sea smites his own barren breast
because he has no flowers to offer to the
moon.
155
The greed for fruit misses the flower.
156
God in His temple of stars
waits for man to bring him his lamp.
157
The fire restrained in the tree fashions
flowers.
Released from bonds, the shameless flame
dies in barren ashes.
158
The sky sets no snare to capture the moon,
it is her own freedom which binds her.
159
The light that fills the sky
seeks its limit in a dew-drop on the grass.
160
Wealth is the burden of bigness,
Welfare the fulness of being.
161
The razor-blade is proud of its keenness
when it sneers at the sun.
162
The butterfly has leisure to love the
lotus,
not the bee busily storing honey.
163
Child, thou bringest to my heart
the babble of the wind and the water,
the flower's speechless secrets, the
clouds' dreams,
the mute gaze of wonder of the morning sky.
164
The rainbow among the clouds may be great
but the little butterfly among the bushes
is greater.
165
The mist weaves her net round the morning,
captivates him, and makes him blind.
166
The Morning Star whispers to Dawn,
'Tell me that you are only for me.'
'Yes,' she answers,
'And also only for that nameless flower.'
167
The sky remains infinitely vacant
for earth there to build its heaven with
dreams.
168
Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt
at being told that it is a fragment
awaiting perfection.
169
Let the evening forgive the mistakes of the
day
and thus win peace for herself.
170
Beauty smiles in the confinement of the
bud,
in the heart of a sweet incompleteness.
171
Your flitting love lightly brushed with its
wings
my sun-flower
and never asked if it was ready to
surrender its honey.
172
Leaves are silences
around flowers which are their words.
173
The tree bears its thousand years
as one large majestic moment.
174
My offerings are not for the temple at the
end of the road,
but for the wayside shrines
that surprise me at every bend.
175
Hour smile, my love, like the smell of a
strange flower,
is simple and inexplicable.
176
Death laughs when the merit of the dead is
exaggerated
for it swells his store with more than he
can claim.
177
The sigh of the shore follows in vain
the breeze that hastens the ship across the
sea.
178
Truth loves its limits,
for there it meets the beautiful.
179
Between the shores of Me and Thee
there is the loud ocean, my own surging
self,
which I long to cross.
180
The right to possess boasts foolishly
of its right to enjoy.
181
The rose is a great deal more
than a blushing apology for the thorn.
182
Day offers to the silence of stars
his golden lute to be tuned
for the endless life.
183
The wise know how to teach,
the fool how to smite.
184
The centre is still and silent in the heart
of an enternal dance of circles.
185
The judge thinks that he is just when he
compares
The oil of another's lamp
with the light of his own.
186
The captive flower in the King's wreath
smiles bitterly when the meadow-flower
envies her.
187
Its store of snow is the hill's own burden,
its outpouring if streams is borne by all
the world.
188
Listen to the prayer of the forest
for its freedom in flowers.
189
Let your love see me
even through the barrier of nearness.
190
The spirit of work in creation is there
to carry and help the spirit of play.
191
To carry the burden of the insturment,
count the cost of its material,
and never to know that it is for music,
is the tragedy of deaf life.
192
Faith is the bird that feels the light
and sings when the dawn is still dark.
193
I bring to thee, night, my day's empty cup,
to be cleansed with thy cool darkness
for a new morning's festival.
194
The mountain fir, in its rustling,
modulates the memory of its fights with the
storm
into a hymn of peace.
195
God honoured me with his fight
when I was rebellious,
He ignored me when I was languid.
196
The sectarina thinks
that he has the sea
ladled into his private pond.
197
In the shady depth of life
are the lonely nests of memories
that shrink from words.
198
Let my love find its strength
in the service of day,
its peace in the union of night.
199
Life sends up in blades of grass
its silent hymn of praise
to the unnamed Light.
200
The stars of night are to me
the memorials of my day's faded flowers.
201
Open thy door to that which must go,
for the loss becomes unseemly when
obstructed.
202
True end is not in the reaching of the
limit,
but in a completion which is limitless.
203
The shore whispers to the sea:
'Write to me what thy waves struggle to
say.'
The sea writes in foam again and again
and wipes off the lines in a boisterous
despair.
204
Let the touch ofthy finger thrill my life's
strings
and make the music thine and mine.
205
The inner world rounded in my life like a
fruit,
matured in joy and sorrow,
will drop into the darkness of the orogonal
soil
for some further course of creation.
206
Form is in Matter, rhythm in Force,
meaning in the Person.
207
There are seekers of wisdom and seekers of
wealth,
I seek thy company so that I may sing.
208
As the tree its leaves, I shed my words on
the earth,
let my thoughts unuttered flower in thy
silence.
209
My faith in truth, my vision of the
perfect,
help thee, Master, in thy creation.
210
All the delights that I have felt
in life's fruits and flowers
let me offer to thee at the end of the
feast,
in a perfect union of love.
211
Some have thought deeply and explored the
meaning of thy truth,
and they are great;
I have listened to catch the music of thy
play,
and I am glad.
212
The tree is a winged spirit
released from the bondage of seed,
pursuing its adventure of life
across the unknown.
213
The lotus offers its beauty to the heaven,
the grass its service to the earth.
214
The sun's kiss mellows into abandonment
the miserliness of the green fruit clinging
to its stem.
215
The flame met the earthen lamp in me,
and what a great marvel of light!
216
Mistakes live in the neighbourhood of truth
and therefore delude us.
217
The cloud laughed at the rainbow
saying that is was an upstart
gaudy in its emptiness.
The rainbow calmly answered,
'I am as inevitably real as tha sun
himself.'
218
Let me not grope in vain in the dark
but keep my mind still in the faith
that the day will break
and truth will appear
in its simplicity.
219
Through the silent night
I hear the returning vagrant hopes of the
morning
knock at my heart.
220
My new love comes
bringing to me the eternal wealth of the
old.
221
The earth gazes at the moon and wonders
that she sould have all her music in her
smile.
222
Day with its glare of curiosity
puts the stars to flight.
223
My mind has itstrue union with thee, O sky,
at the window which is mine own,
and not in the open
where thou hast thy sole kingdom.
224
Man claims God's flowers as his own
when he weaves them in a garland.
225
The buried city, laid bare to the sun of a
new age,
is ashamed that is has lost all its song.
226
Like my heart's pain that has long missed
its meaning,
the sun's rays robed in dark
hide themselves under the ground.
Like my heart'spain at love's sudden touch,
they change their veil at the spring's call
and come out in the carnival of colours,
in flowers and leaves.
227
My life's empty flute
waits for its final music
like the primal darkness
before the stars came out.
228
Emancipation from the bondage of the soil
is no freedom for the tree.
229
The tapestry of life's story is woven
with the threads of life's ties
ever joining and breaking.
230
Those thoughts of mine that are never
captured by words
perch upon my song and dance.
231
My soul to-night loses itself
in the silent heart of a tree
standing alone among the whispers of
immensity.
232
Pearl shells cast up by the sea
on death's barren beach,—
a magnificent wastefulness of creative
life.
233
The sunlight opens for me the word's gate,
love's light its terasure.
234
My life like the reed with its stops,
has its play ofcolours
through the gaps in its hopes and gains.
235
Let not my thanks to thee
rob my silence of its fuller homage.
236
Life's aspirations come
in the guise of children.
237
The faded flower sighs
that the spring has vanished for ever.
238
In my life's garden
my wealth has been of the shadows and
lights
that are never gathered and stored.
239
The fruit that I Have gained for ever
is thet which thou hast accepted.
240
The jasmine knows the sun to be her brother
in the heaven.
241
Light is young, the ancient light;
shadows are of the moment, they are born
old.
242
I feel that the ferry of my songs at the
day's end
will brong me across to the other shore
from where I shall see.
243
The butterfly flitting from flower to
flower
ever remains mine,
I lose the one that is netted by me.
244
Your voice, free bird, reaches my sleeping
nest,
and my drowsy wings dream
of a voyage to the light
above the clouds.
245
I miss the meaning of my own part
in the play of life
because I know not of the parts
that others play.
246
The flower sheds all its petals
and finds the fruit.
247
I leave my songs behind me
to the bloom of the ever-returning
honeysuckles
and the joy of the wind from the south.
248
Dead leaves when they lose themselves in
soil
take part in the life of the forest.
249
The mind ever seeks its words
from its sounds and silence
as the sky from its darkness and light.
250
The unseen dark plays on his flute
and the rhythm of light
eddies into stars and suns,
into thoughts and reams.
251
My songs are to sing
that I have loved Thy singing.
252
When the voice of the Silent touches my
words
I know him and therefore I know myself.
253
My last salutations are to them
who knew me imperfect and loved me.
254
Love's gift cannot be given,
it waits to be accepted.
255
When death comes and whispers to me,
'Thy days are ended,'
let me say to him, 'I have lived in love
and not in mere time.'
He will ask, 'Will thy songs remain?'
I shall say, 'I know not, but this I know
that often when I sang I found my
eternity.'
256
'Let me light my lamp,'
says the star,
'and never debate
if it will help to remove the darkness.'
257
Before the end of my journey
may I reach within myself
the one which is the all,
leaving the outer shell
to float away with the drifting multitude
upon the current of chance and change.
====
252篇，原9=>ff9&10, 原64=>ff65&66, 原94=>ff96&97,原無ff137, 原154=>ff158&159,
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