De maan weerspiegeld in dauwdruppels,
afgeschud van de snavel van een kraanvogel.
Dogen Zenji
zonsopgang
Sunrise
You can
die for it–
an idea,
or the world. People
have done so,
brilliantly,
letting
their small bodies be bound
to the stake,
creating
an unforgettable
fury of light. But
this morning,
climbing the familiar hills
in the familiar
fabric of dawn, I thought
of China,
and India
and Europe, and I thought
how the sun
blazes
for everyone just
so joyfully
as it rises
under the lashes
of my own eyes, and I thought
I am so many!
What is my name?
What is the name
of the deep breath I would take
over and over
for all of us? Call it
whatever you want, it is
happiness, it is another one
of the ways to enter
fire.
Mary Oliver
the peace of wild things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Wendell Berry
op het schoolplein
goudsijsjes
Goldfinches
In the fields
we let them have-
in the fields
we don’t want yet-
where thistles rise
out of the marshlands of spring, and spring open-
each bud
a settlement of riches-
a coin of reddish fire-
the finches
wait for midsummer,
for the long days,
for the brass heat,
for the seeds to begin to form in the hardening thistles,
dazzling as the teeth of mice,
but black,
filling the face of every flower.
Then they drop from the sky.
A buttery gold,
they swing on the thistles, they gather
the silvery down, they carry it
in their finchy beaks
to the edges of the fields,
to the trees,
as though their minds were on fire
with the flower of one perfect idea-
and there they build their nests
and lay their pale-blue eggs,
every year,
and every year
the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches,
in the silver baskets,
and love the world.
Is it necessary to say any more?
Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields?
Have you ever been so happy in your life?
Mary Oliver
beste luisteraars,
op avontuur
Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous,
leading to the most amazing view.
May your rivers flow without end,
meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells,
past temples and castles and poets’ towers
into a dark primeval forest
where tigers belch and monkeys howl,
through miasmal and mysterious swamps
and down into a desert of red rock,
and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm
where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs,
where deer walk across the white sand beaches,
where storms come and go
as lightning clangs upon the high crags,
where something strange and more beautiful
and more full of wonder than
your deepest dreams waits for you –
beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.
Edward Abbey
De zee
De Zee, de Zee klotst voort in eindelooze deining,
De Zee, waarin mijn Ziel zich-zelf weerspiegeld ziet;
De Zee is als mijn Ziel in wezen en verschijning,
Zij is een levend Schoon en kent zich-zelve niet.
Zij wischt zich-zelven af in eeuwige verreining,
En wendt zich altijd òm en keert weer waar zij vliedt,
Zij drukt zich-zelven uit in duizenderlei lijning
En zingt een eeuwig-blij en eeuwig-klagend lied.
O, Zee was Ik als Gij in àl uw onbewustheid,
Dan zou ik eerst gehéél en gróót gelukkig zijn;
Dan had ik eerst geen lust naar menschlijke belustheid
Op menschelijke vreugd en menschelijke pijn;
Dan wás mijn Ziel een Zee, en hare zelfgerustheid,
Zou, wijl Zij grooter is dan Gij, nóg grooter zijn.
Willem Kloos
inviting and listening to the bell
May the sound of this bell penetrate deeply into the cosmos
In even the darkest places, may living beings hear it clearly
So that understanding comes to their heart, and without hardship
They transcend the cycle of birth and death
Listening to the bell I feel the afflictions in me begin to dissolve
My mind becomes calm, my body relaxed, and a smile is born on my lips
Following the sound of the bell, my breath guides me back to the safe island of mindfulness
In the garden of my heart the flower of peace blooms beautifully.
