Once we dreamt that we were strangers.
We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.
Sorrow is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among
the silent trees.
Some unseen fingers, like an idle breeze, are playing upon my heart
the music of the ripples.
What language is thine, O sea?
The language of eternal question.
What language is thy answer, O sky?
The language of eternal silence.
Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes
love to you.
The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night--it is great.
Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.
Do not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.
I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops
for a moment, nods to me and goes.
There little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; they have their
whisper of joy in my mind.
What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow.
My wishes are fools, they shout across thy song, my Master.
Let me but listen.
I cannot choose the best.
The best chooses me.
They throw their shadows before them who carry their lantern on
their back.
We, the rustling leaves, have a voice that answers the storms,
but who are you so silent?"
I am a mere flower.
Rest belongs to the work as the eyelids to the eyes.
Man is a born child, his power is the power of growth.
God expects answers for the flowers he sends us, not for the sun
the earth.
The light that plays, like a naked child, among the green leaves
happily knows not that man can lie.
O Beauty, find thyself in love, not in the flattery of thy mirror.
My heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes upon
it her signature in tears with the words, "I love thee."