Short Poems

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

Selflessness is the sign of the selfless;
Bow down at the door of the selfless.
The selfless are of the highest authority,
The kings of the time and the wearers of the crest and crown.

Ourselves within ourselves, we then are free
To touch the world at every turn, and take
The moods of men and mingle them with ours;
But ourselves out of ourselves, we are slaved
To every passing rumour, loose our hold,
And slipping in the flood of circumstance
Are whirled away.

A crowd of dry-lipped poeple
Wanders in an arid desert.
And then,
Unable to find water,
Deceive their thirst
By chewing on sand:
Trying to live and impossible life.

I had a Donkey, that was all right,
But he always wanted to fly my Kite;
Every time I let him, the String would bust.
Your Donkey is better behaved, I trust.
 

From an ignorant being, I expect not eulogy,
It be a friend or foe, I listen to all and sundry,
Verily, the flavor of friendship fades not,
I remove thorns and pluck the flowers gently.

Seen
through a telescope:
ten cents worth of fog.


Translated by Robert Hass

Ask disciple beneath the pines,
Says Master's gone to gather herbs.
He's somewhere in these mountains,
Dense Fog, who knows where...

My old friend's said goodbye to the west, here at Yellow Crane Tower,
In the third month's cloud of willow blossoms, he's going down to Yangzhou.
The lonely sail is a distant shadow, on the edge of a blue emptiness,
All I see is the Yangtze River flow to the far horizon.

See, see, mine own sweet jewel,
See what I have here for my darling:
A robin-redbreast and a starling.
These I give both, in hope to move thee--
And yet thou say'st I do not love thee.