A bird’s cry cradles me,
Across a green valley, blown by the courageous wind.
The wild grass cast dark shadows within me,
I wander full of worry,
Exhaling and expanding forever, torn loss, torn open,
Avariciously overwhelmed.
I wish on the fearless wind to blow it all way.
And to give my weary body racked with grief to the flowers,
To the evening sunlight, to the forests,
To the stones and to the unending sea.
I wish I could lay enormously outspread,
So my indomitable thoughts are countless constellations,
Under holy ceremonies, venerated,
Consecrated by a thousand forms.
My headrests among blessed songs,
A native sound, Vernacularly Reverberated,
Sang over and over and over by nomadic people.
Traveling desolately in distant lands,
My feet would be wet by snow and cold mountain rain, and
Over my stomach armies waged with death; wretched and bloody battles.
Now everything weightless.
All is bare, all is light, all is tranquil.
My agonizing pain no longer mine.
Our heart no longer contained, confined, constricted,
To love more deeply, we learn it belongs to the world.
How would such vastness feel?
But we are walking along a confusing path,
Exhausted, staggering in drunken fumbling, leading us home.
Burning fiercely, fulfilment discovered here.
Nevertheless on the fleeting extremity of happiness,
Every moment eternally gleams with being.
But in unending natures there is
Only the flowing water,
Only rustle of growing trees,
Only blue sky,
Only the stars.
All that really matters is this:
We Give are our image to the great monuments,
And Written into uncountable books but
Nothing survives,
Even curved into hard gravestone,
Will vanish- laughing.
And in the immensity of space
and in the flickering dust of the earth,
Every moment to new joy, to new pain.