The scabbard is content to be dull when it protects the keenness of
the sword.
In darkness the One appears as uniform; in the light the One appears
as manifold.
The great earth makes herself hospitable with the help of the grass.
The birth and death of the leaves are the rapid whirls of the eddy
whose wider circles move slowly among stars.
Power said to the world, "You are mine."
The world kept it prisoner on her throne.
Love said to the world, "I am thine."
The world gave it the freedom of her house.
The mist is like the earth's desire.
It hides the sun for whom she cries.
Be still, my heart, these great trees are prayers.
The noise of the moment scoffs at the music of the Eternal.
I think of other ages that floated upon the stream of life and love
and death and are forgotten, and I feel the freedom of passing away.
The sadness of my soul is her bride's veil.
It waits to be lifted in the night.
Death's stamp gives value to the coin of life; making it possible
to buy with life what is truly precious.
The cloud stood humbly in a corner of the sky.
The morning crowned it with splendour.
The dust receives insult and in return offers her flowers.
Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on,
for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.
Roots are the branches down in the earth.
Branches are roots in the air.
The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking
its former nest.
Do not insult your friend by lending him merits from your own pocket.
The touch of the nameless days clings to my heart like mosses round
the old tree.
The echo mocks her origin to prove she is the original.
God is ashamed when the prosperous boasts of His special favour.