English

Brilliant, bright—the flowers of the cold season!
Their subtle fragrance arises in the quiet.
Others are hoping to smell them a few times,
but I prefer to use my ears!
The fragrance sends forth jewel-like songs;
singing them out loud, I feel such joy!
And who says there is no fragrance in sound?
Smelling and hearing are really the same thing.
But best of all would be to end all sound,
and also get rid of fragrance and form.
No smelling, and also no hearing at all—
back to the mystery of the Primal One.

King Hsiang of Ch'u was taking his ease in the Palace of the Orchid Terrace, with his courtiers Sung Yü and Ching Ch'a attending him, when a sudden gust of wind came sweeping in. The king, opening wide the collar of his robe and facing into it, said, " How delightful this wind is! And I and the common people may share it together, may we not? "
But Sung Yü replied, " This wind is for Your Majesty alone. How could the common people have a share in it? "

Broad and far-reaching, the level plain,
Hurrying south to Cangwu and the Sea of Zhang,
Racing north to Purple Barriers, the Wild Goose Gate,
Its barge canal like a tow rope to haul it about,
Its Kunlun of hills to serve as an axle,
A fastness of double rivers, of many-fold passes,
A corridor where four roads meet, where five pass through
Long ago, at the time of its greatest prospering,
Carriages clashed axle heads,
Men jostled shoulders,
House rows and alley gates crowded the earth,
Songs and piping shrilled to the sky

Breath of spring bit by bit milder;
rattling the rings on my staff, I head for the east town.
Green green, willows in the gardens;
bobbing bobbing, duckweed on the pond.
Alms bowl smelling sweet with rice from a thousand houses;
heart indifferent to ten-thousand-chariot glory.
Following in tracks of old-time buddhas,
begging for food, I go my way.

The burnt eyes burned.
The eyes were neither blue
nor brown. Twinkling,
they stabbed my heart.

They seemed to make me cry,
but did not.
Twinkling, they caressed me,
licked my spoiled heart.

The burnt eyes did not move.
As if they were both blue
and brown, forever

the burnt eyes were quiet!
Having forgotten the sun and fragrant grass,
they burned sadly, twinkling, twinkling.

The parabola thrown
from the woman
to the hedge
is the lifeline of
a man who yearns for beautiful human solitude
The Greek goddesses too try to avoid
the line
At the end of December and into January
it gets extremely lonely here
The concrete road
as wide as the Champs-Elysées
runs beyond the racetrack thrown away toward Meguro
to Kakinokizaka
its backdrop a wonderful evening sun
the mountains of Sagami undulating black
If you saw this sunset sky
you would as I do

" Build me straight, O worthy Master!
Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,
That shall laugh at all disaster,
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle! "

The merchant's word
Delighted the Master heard;
For his heart was in his work, and the heart
Giveth grace unto every Art.

A quiet smile played round his lips,
As the eddies and dimples of the tide
Play round the bows of ships,
That steadily at anchor ride.
And with a voice that was full of glee,

Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere,
Bold in maternal Nature's care,
And all the long year through the heir
Of joy and sorrow;
Methinks that there abides in thee
Some concord with humanity,
Given to no other flower I see
The forest thorough!

Is it that Man is soon deprest?
A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest,
Does little on his memory rest,
Or on his reason,
And Thou wouldst teach him how to find
A shelter under every wind,
A hope for times that are unkind
And every season?

Bright Tulips, we do know,
You had your comming hither;
And Fading-time do's show,
That Ye must quickly wither.

Your Sister-hoods may stay,
And smile here for your houre;
But dye ye must away:
Even as the meanest Flower.

Come Virgins then, and see
Your frailties; and bemone ye;
For lost like these, 'twill be,
As Time had never known ye.

A Picture by Leighton

But give them me, the mouth, the eyes, the brow!
Let them once more absorb me! One look now
Will lap me round for ever, not to pass
Out of its light, though darkness lie beyond:
Hold me but safe again within the bond
Of one immortal look! All woe that was,
Forgotten, and all terror that may be,
Defied, — no past is mine, no future: look at me!