On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar --
Where the storm is o'er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest --
The anchors fast --
Thither I pilot thee --
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!
"Oh, beware the trotting Ostrich!"
I'd never, ever have thought which
Would be a real concern for me,
As I sit in cafes and libraries.
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
It is autumn; not without,
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.
Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.
There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves
Comes no murmur from the mill.
Pity would be no more
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could be
If all were happy as we.
And mutual fear brings peace,
Till the selfish loves increase;
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the ground with tears;
Then Humility takes its root
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head;
And the Catterpiller and Fly
Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat;
And the Raven his nest has made
In its thickest shade.
The Gods of the earth and sea
Sought thro' Nature to find this Tree;
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the Human Brain.
The clock will go slow
If you watch it, you know;
You must work right along and forget it.
So study your best
Till it's time for a rest,
The clock will go fast, if you let it!
The Chital at the watering hole
Has one single simple goal:
To drink its fill and then to scat
Before being eaten by some big cat.
Poetry is poignant and ornate;
Essays are deep and content-centric.
Stele entries are true to the essence;
Paeans, moving and melancholic.
Inscriptions are concise and kindly;
Telltales have a logic and cadence.
Odes show great grace and refinement;
Op-eds are unrepressed and intense.
Music 's penetrating and stately;
Speeches must sparkle with cleverness.
Though there ever so many forms,
All thwart evil and allow release:
Expression, sans pride overweening,
With no waste of words or lost meaning.
Original in Simplified Chinese:
诗缘情而绮靡，赋体物而浏亮。
碑披文以相质，诔缠绵而凄怆。
铭博约而温润，箴顿挫而清壮。
颂优游以彬蔚，论精微而朗畅。
奏平彻以闲雅，说炜晔而谲诳。
虽区分之在兹，亦禁邪而制放。
要辞达而理举，故无取乎冗长。
Drunk at night in Dongpo.
I sober, then drink once more;
I return at three A.M.
To hear boy's thunderous snores.
I knock but there's no answer --
Lean on my staff and listen
To water, and feel my regrets
As ripples in river glisten.
I could vanish in this boat,
And see out my life afloat.
Note: The Song Dynasty poet Su Shi [苏轼] was also known as Dongpo [東坡] or Zizhan [子瞻.]
In this short Life that only lasts an hour
How much - how little - is within our power
Tiger Riding for Beginners 