Now are come the days of brown leaves. They fall from the trees; they flutter on the ground. ... I hear them tell you of their borning days, when they did come into the world as leaves. ... Today, they were talking of the time before their borning days of the springtime. ... They told how they were a part of earth and air, before their tree-borning days. And now they are going back. They go back to the earth again. But they do not die.
~ from THE SINGING CREEK WHERE THE WILLOWS GROW by Opal Whitely
Just sit there right now
Don't do a thing
Just rest
For your separation from God
Is the hardest work in this world
Let me bring you trays of food
And something that you like to drink
You can use my soft words
As a cushion for your head
The small man
Builds cages for everyone
He
knows.
While the sage,
Who has to duck his head
When the moon is low,
Keeps dropping keys all night long
For the
Beautiful
Rowdy
Prisoners.
~ from THE GIFT by Hafiz, translated by Daniel Ladinsky
