BIRD'S NEST
Long time ago, in days of T'ang,
When poets could be governors,
I held that office by myself--
And nothing had been lovelier,
For I did balance art and life,
Creating such fair weather
Throughout my district, wherein Law
And Beauty ruled together.
One day I strolled upon my rounds,
And saw that all was good.
Emerging from the mist, I stopped
Beside a tangled wood
And peered for birds amid the dense
Brocade of uncut trees,
When suddenly my eyes grew wide
To see what I did see!
A hermit monk had roosted in
The branches up above,
In such a nest of leaves and twigs
As only birds could love.
So anxious for an interview,
I stood beneath his shade
And cried, "Your seat is perilous,
And are you not afraid?"
"You seat is worse by far than mine,"
The recluse did reply;
To which I almost took offense,
Then thought to ask him why.
"I see no danger where I am,"
I said, "for I am he
Who rules here as the sages did
Before all history!"
"Then you don't know yourself," he smiled;
"For while your passions burn,
And mind is bobbing like a cork,
What safety have you earned?"
"What is the teaching, then," I asked,
"Of which all Buddhas speak?"
For I had arguments prepared
Against my own defeat.
"To do no evil," he replied,
"While practicing all good;
To keep the heart sincere and pure--
This speaks of Buddahood."
I must confess I heard with scorn.
"Why, any three year old
Can parrot such a well known verse!
Is only this your goal?"
"A three year old may know it well,"
He chirped, "but here I sit,
An eighty year old man, and find
It hard to practice it!"
