Classic Poem

The sound of the boy walking
down the snowy street
selling fried silkworms

echoes the rustling of bamboo groves
near Tamyang, in the southwest.

Sharing a grin with him I know
a difficult calm.

The boy selling papers,
as he pulls a copy loose from the pile,

the sound of pine groves
near Ch'ongdo, east of Taegu.

Placing the copper coins
jingling in his hand
I know a difficult calm.

The children on their way to school
turning so effortlessly
down the sloping ridge path,
curving like the slender line
of a winter day's orchid:
thinking " Go safely, fare well, "
I know a sense of peace.

Their hearts, what
are the hearts of these children like?
Small, cold, and mute?
Are they warm as cousin's silk trousers?

Or like a fireplace
where someone, risen so early in the morning
kindles the fire for someone else?
— Musing brings back
the line from an old, old song:
A heart full of healing.

Whatever else they may be,
let your hearts, children, be full
of healing, and all of you
well. May this prayer for you
find you
well.