The Artist
Let people not give, not give!
I'm content with my world.
Who's calling, who's calling
in the early morning on the other side?
When you search, when you quest
why expect food or fodder?
A few days in this jungle, then
set out for other lands.
The tree grows toward the rose,
the fountain behind the river.
My heart keeps on singing,
the beauty before it.
One impulse and one gleam:
trivial then Kubera and his wealth.
One lovely flame in the spirit,
and life like heaven.
The world turned that way, I this —
both of us mad.
The world picks hard pieces,
I moonlit clouds.
They say I fly off in the wind,
my spirit shadow, moonlight my drink.
My life is trying to sing
like the murmur of forest streams.
I'm content with my world.
Who's calling, who's calling
in the early morning on the other side?
When you search, when you quest
why expect food or fodder?
A few days in this jungle, then
set out for other lands.
The tree grows toward the rose,
the fountain behind the river.
My heart keeps on singing,
the beauty before it.
One impulse and one gleam:
trivial then Kubera and his wealth.
One lovely flame in the spirit,
and life like heaven.
The world turned that way, I this —
both of us mad.
The world picks hard pieces,
I moonlit clouds.
They say I fly off in the wind,
my spirit shadow, moonlight my drink.
My life is trying to sing
like the murmur of forest streams.
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