Waves
She sits on shore
Toes covered in sand
Admiring the sunset
He is the tide
Bowing at her feet
Sighing with each retreat
Previously published on Twitter (@van_decaf)
Earth
If you want to milk the Earth as a cow,
Then nourish the soil with seed and plow;
For when it’s set with deep grown roots,
Like a plentiful tree, it will yield many fruits.
Inspired by a Sanskrit poem by Bhartri-Hari, as translated in the Clay Sanskrit Library edition:
Rajan, dudhuksasi yadi Ksiti dhenum enam,
Ten’ adya vatsam iva lokam amum pusana;
Tasmims ca samyag anisam paripusyamane
Nana phalam phalati kalpa lat eva Bhumih.
King, if you want to milk this Earth as a cow,
Gazing at Heaven’s Gate
The River Chu has split the hills in two
To send the jade-brushed water east and back,
Around the two opposing hills anew
As a lonely boat sits still in a sunlit crack.
Original Chinese poem by Li Bai
Sweet
Nothing is so dear, a noble warrior said,
Than glory bought by armor pierced in blood
Amid the cries of those who’ve fallen in mud—
For what is life if honor’s been left for dead?
Emaciated, poor, or stuck without life’s luck,
It’s to the bold and daring that the world goes;
Whether in women, war, or what ambition sows,
With courage alone we come up from the muck.
Some say the day-maker rises with the sun
As the lord of night shines down from the moon:
For all that’s fire, a life without water is none,
This is my Church
MY CHURCH
This is my church,
where overhanging filament
of birch and pine
twine into steeple
of wood and air,
where pools of light
stain like glass,
this sacred plot of prayer
This is my church,
where trampled grass
and crackling leaves,
etch endless aisles
that lead to alters
that augur a silent divinity.
Spreading Their Wings
Look at the bird, he spreads his wings,
The image stays like a song I sing.
He flies in a tune above, below,
So rich and free from the toil I know.
For ages I gaze at the sun and moon,
The distant clouds, whose path still looms.
For hundreds of rich, who know not right,
They do no good, but use their might.
Original Chinese Poem
Eve (and us three)
True Learning
Beauty refined in words,
You say, “I know it all,”
And so your mind is blurred—
But if it were, “I am so small,”
The lengths you could be spurred.
You carry coins with scorn,
Enriched like grass in the wind;
But all your jewels have worn
And wasted in fruitless sin,
A beast from the wild born.
Yet true learning dwells inside, well-hidden,
And all is there, with nothing forbidden.
Seeking Chang, the Daoist Priest
The entire journey was on foot to this place,
Of moss, more moss, and my footstep’s trace.
White clouds about the banks in a quiet state,
The growing grass has covered the fence’s gate.
Passing rain, the pine’s green color in course,
I follow the mountain, to the water’s source.
These river flowers, in a moment’s sensation,
Have brought us to meet in silent meditation.
Original Chinese Poem
Prophet
Everyday pronouncing a silken word,
Unheeded, though it’s never much his fault—
Standing among us, a prophet who pours
A speck of honey in a sea of salt.
