Classic Poem

I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms,
hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.

No more sailing from harbor to harbor with
this my weather-beaten boat.
The days are long passed when
my sport was to be tossed on waves.

And now I am eager to die into the deathless.

Into the audience hall by the fathomless abyss
where swells up the music of toneless strings
I shall take this harp of my life.

I shall tune it to the notes of forever, and, when
it has sobbed out its last utterance, lay down
my silent harp at the feet of the silent.