Is it every person's dream
To be what one is,
And not what one seems?
Or would one rather be
The creature of one's dreams --
Who no one ever sees?
Or should one be the best
Of real and imagined:
The host and the guest?
How much of who we are
Is the views of others
And how much is ours?
(And is any of it
Written in the stars?)
Plain and simple words are chosen,
Even to express tangled thoughts.
Then one comes upon a hermit,
And one glimpses the heart of Dao.
The clear stream burbles its soft song
Amid the shady ancient pine grove.
A woodsman passes with his cordwood;
A stranger listens to a lute song.
A strong feeling takes one over,
Bringing with it bliss and wonder,
And one's easy link with heaven
Is tender as the sound of water.
NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a translation of the eighteenth of the twenty-four poems. Translated titles vary — e.g. Herbert A. Giles titled this translation “Actualities.”
Tiger Riding for Beginners 