Flushed with the glow of sunset earth seems like a ripe fruit ready to be harvested by night.
Light accepts darkness for his spouse for the sake of creation.
The reed waits for his master’s breath,the Master goes seeking for his reed.
To the blind pen the hand that writes is unreal,its writing unmeaning.
The sea smites his own barren breast because he has no flowers to offer to the moon.
The greed for fruit misses the flower.
God in His temple of stars waits for man to bring him his lamp.
The fire restrained in the tree fashions flowers.Released from bonds,the shameless flame dies in barren ashes.
The sky sets no snare to capture the moon,it is her own freedom which binds her.The light that fills the sky seeks its limit in a dew-drop on the grass.
Wealth is the burden of bigness,Welfare the fulness of being.
The razor-blade is proud of its keenness when is sneers at the sun.
The burrerfly has leisure to love the lotus,not the bee busily storing honey.
Child,thou bringest to my heart the babble of the wind and the water, the flowers’speechess secrets,the clouds’ dreams,the mute gaze of wonder of the morning sky.
The rainbow among the clouds may be great but the little butterfly among the bushes is greater.
The mist weaves her net round the morning,captivates him,and makes him blind.
The Morning Star whispers to Dawn,“Tell me that you are only for me.”
“Yes,”she answers,“And also only for that nameless flower.”
The sky remains infinitely vacant for earth there to build its heaven with dreams.
Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt at being told that it is a fragment awaiting perfection.
Let the evening forgive the mistakes of the day and thus win peace for herself.
Beauty smiles in the confinement of the bud,in the heart of a sweet incompleteness.
Your flitting love lightly brushed with its wings my sun-flower and never asked if it was ready to surrender its honey.
Leaves are silences around flowers which are their words.
The tree bears its thousand years as one large majestic moment.
My offerings are not for the temple at the end of the road,but for the wayside shrines that surprise me at every bend.
Your smile.my love,like the smile of a strange flower,is simple and inexplicable.
Death laughs when the merit of the dead is exaggerated for it swells his store with more than he can claim.
The sigh of the shore follows in vain the breeze that hastens the ship across the sea.
Truth loves its limits,for there it meets the beautiful.
Between the shores of Me and Thee there is the loud ocean,my own surging self,which I long to cross.
The right to possess boasts foolishly of its right to enjoy.
The rose is a great deal more than a blushing apology for the thorn.
Day offfers to the silence of stars his golden lute to be tuned for the endless life.
The wise know how to teach,the fool how to smite.
The centre is still and silent in the heart of an eternal dance of circles.
The judge thinks that he is just when he compares the oil of another’s lamp with the light of his own.
The captive flower in the King’s wreath smiles bitterly when the meadow flower envies her.
Its store of snow is the hill"s own burden,its outpouring of streams is borne by all the world.
Listen to the prayer of the forest for its freedom in flowers.
Let your love see me even through the barrier of nearness.
The spirit of work in creation is there to carry and help the spirit of play.
To carry the burden of the instrument,count the cost of its material, and never to know that it is for music,is the tragedy of deaf life.
Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.
I bring to thee,night,my day’s empty cup,to be cleansed with thy cool darkness for a new morning’s festival.
The mountain fir,in its rustling,modulates the memory of its fights with the storm into a hymn of peace.
God honoured me with his fight when I was rebellious,He ignored me when I was languid.
The sectarian thinks that he has the sea ladled into his private pond.
In the shady depth of life are the lonely nests of memories that shrink from words.
Let my love find its strength in the service of day,its peace in the union of night.
Life sends up in blades of grass its silent hymn of praise to the unnamed Light.
The stars of night are to me the memorials of my day"s faded flowers.
Open thy door to that which must go,for the loss becomes unseemly when obstructed.
Ture end is not in the reaching of the limit,but in a completion which is limitless.
The shore whispers to the sea:“Write to me what thy waves struggle to say.”
The sea writes in foam again and again and wipes offf the lines in a boisterous despair.
Let the touch of thy finger thrill my life"s strings and make the music thine and mine.
The inner world rounded in my life like a fruit,matured in joy and sorrow,will drop into the darkness of the original soil for some further course of creation.
From is in Matter,rhythm in Force,meaning in the Person.
There are seekers of wisdom and seekers of wealth,I seek thy company so that I may sing.
As the tree its leaves,I shed my words on the earth,let my thoughts unuttered flower in thy silence.
My faith in truth,my vision of the perfect,help thee,Master,in thy creation.
All the delights that I have felt in life’s fruits and flowers, let me offer to thee at the end of the feast, in a perfect union of love.
Some have thought deeply and explored the meaning of thy truth, and they are great; I have listened to catch the music of thy play, and I am glad.
The tree is a winged spirit released from the bondage of seed, pursuing its adventure of life across the unknown.
The lotus offers its beauty to the heaven,the grass its service to the earth.
The sun’s kiss mellow into abandonment, the miserliness of the green fruit clinging to its stem.
The flame met the earthen lamp in me,and what a great marvel of light!
Mistakes live in the neighbourhood of truth and therefore delude us.
The cloud laughed at the rainbow sayng that is was an upstart gaudy in its emptiness.The rainbow calmly answered,“I am as inevitably real as the sun himself.”
Let me not grope in vain in the dark but keep my mind still in the faith that the day will break and truth will appear in its simplicity.
