Hair-braided chestnut,
coiled like a lyncher's rope,
Eyes-fagots,
Lips-old scars, or the first red blisters,
Breath-the last sweet scent of cane,
And her slim body, white as the ash
of black flesh after flame.

    Images leap with him from branch to branch. His eyes
brighten, his head cocks, he pauses under a green bough,
alert.
    And when I see him I want to hide him somewhere.

What thou thinkest, belongs to all; what thou feelest, is thine only.
Wouldst thou make him thine own, feel thou the God whom thou thinkest!

O statesmen, what would you be at,
With torches, flags and bands?
You make me first throw up my hat,
And then my hands.

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name;
Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth, in Heaven the same;
Give us this day our daily bread, and may our debts to heaven--
As we our earthly debts forgive--by Thee be all forgiven;
When tempted or by evil vexed, restore Thou us again,
And Thine be the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, forever and ever;
amen.

'If life were not worth having,' said the preacher,
''T would have in suicide one pleasant feature.'
'An error,' said the pessimist, 'you're making:
What's not worth having cannot be worth taking.

Compressing courage
Sordid as a nut

Working intelligence
Hush

Want

While my little boat moves on its mooring of mist,
And daylight wanes, old memories begin....
How wide the world was, how close the trees to heaven,
And how clear in the water the nearness of the moon!

While I watch the moon go down, a crow caws through the frost;
Under the shadows of maple-trees a fisherman moves with his torch;
And I hear, from beyond Suzhou, from the temple on Cold Mountain,
Ringing for me, here in my boat, the midnight bell.

These days which, like yourself,
Seem empty and effaced
Have avid roots that delve
To work deep in the waste.