I was born near a foggy shore,
and grew to love the ocean moods.
Valleys are rich with orchards and vineyards —
who could resist their enticing charms?
I’ve traveled through lonely deserts, stayed a while
in many cities too — each has their own special
quality, even if it’s to be bereft of any quality.
At last, the drumbeat of my heartbeat led me
to these mountains. It’s where I’ve pitched my tent.
How fortunate — to witness another brilliant sunrise
here in this wild forest of oaks and tall pines!
The birds are busy with their morning rituals,
the green trees bathe in the dawning light.
Seasons with their varied changing props are like
painted scenes upon a stage. So many characters
appear and disappear — who can say how many?
Although my eyes are open, my gaze is turned within.
The world of men and women, the world of being
and becoming — all that gradually fades away.
Breathing in, breathing out — after all my efforts,
hopes, and schemes, what will still remain?
Far off in the distance, a barking dog, and now
the wind has found me, the trees begin to sway.