November 3rd
Neither yielding to rain
nor yielding to wind
yielding neither to
snow nor to summer heat
with a stout body
like that
without greed
never getting angry
always smiling quiet-
ly
eating one and a half pieces of brown rice
and bean paste and a bit of
vegetables a day
in everything
not taking oneself
into account
looking listening understanding well
and not forgetting
living in the shadow of pine trees in a field
in a small
hut thatched with miscanthus
if in the east there’s a
sick child
going and nursing
him
if in the west there is a tired mother
going and for her
carrying
bundles of rice
if in the south
there’s someone
dying
going
and saying
you don’t have to be
afraid
if in the north
there’s a quarrel
or a lawsuit
saying it’s not worth it
stop it
in a drought
shedding tears
in a cold summer
pacing back and forth lost
called
a good-for-nothing
by everyone
neither praised
nor thought a pain
someone
like that
is what I want
to be
- Miyazawa Kenji
You are drunk and i'm intoxicated
you are drunk
and i'm intoxicated
no one is around
showing us the way home
again and again
i told you
drink less
a cup or two
i know in this city
no one is sober
one is worse than the other
one is frenzied and
the other gone mad
come on my friend
step into the tavern of ruins
taste the sweetness of life
in the company of another friend
here you'll see
at every corner
someone intoxicated
and the cup-bearer
makes her rounds
i went out of my house
a drunkard came to me
someone whose glance
uncovered a hundred
houses in paradise
rocking and rolling
he was a sail
with no anchor but
he was the envy of all those sober ones
remaining on the shore
where are you from i asked
he smiled in mockery and said
one half from the east
one half from the west
one half made of water and earth
one half made of heart and soul
one half staying at the shores and
one half nesting in a pearl
i begged
take me as your friend
i am your next of kin
he said i recognize no kin
among strangers
i left my belongings and
entered this tavern
i only have a chest
full of words
but can't utter
a single one
- Rumi