The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child – so high – you are,
And all this is folly to the world.
Ezra Pound
The temple bell stops.
But the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers.
Matsuo Basho
Its house abandoned,
the garden has become home
to butterflies.
Iio Sogi (1421-1502)
And a man said, Speak to us of Self-Knowledge.
And he answered saying:
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.
Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth.”
Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path.”
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.
Kahlil Gibran,
an extract from a lovely haiku by P Noble
freshly cut oranges
revive memories
too deep for sharing
orion’s arm
reaches over the horizon
tossing stars
Love.
So many different ways
to have been in love.
Boncho
thinking…
must get back to blogging more often
with thanks to Bel-Vedere for the pics 
From Kumārasambhava 5.24
As Parvati is meditating, the first rain drops of the monsoon fall on her:
sthitāḥ kṣaṇaṃ pakṣmasu tāḍitādharāḥ payodharotsedhanipātacūrṇitāḥ ।
valīṣu tasyāḥ skhalitāḥ prapedire cireṇa nābhiṃ prathamodabindavaḥ
and two lovely translations:
With momentary pause the first drops rest
Upon the lash then strike her nether lip,
Fracture the ladder of her waist then trip
And slowly at her navel come to rest— translation by IngallsPausing a moment on her eyelashes,
beating against her lower lip,
breaking up in the fall
on to the protrusion of her breasts,
slithering into the three folds of skin below,
the first drops of water
eventually reached her navel.— David Smith
Merry Merry Sparrow
Under leaves so green
A happy Blossom
Sees you swift as arrow
Seek your cradle narrow
Near my Bosom.
Pretty Pretty Robin
Under leaves so green
A happy Blossom
Hears you sobbing sobbing
Pretty Pretty Robin
Near my Bosom.
from Songs of Innocence and of Experience by William Blake
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