Entering the Shell

Marc Chagall, Village by Night

Love is alive,

and someone borne along by it is more alive

than lions roaring or men in their fierce courage.

Bandits ambush others on the road.

They get wealth, but they stay in one place.

Lovers keep moving, never the same,

not for a second.

What makes others grieve, they enjoy.

When they look angry, do not believe their faces.

It is like spring lightning, a joke before the rain.

They chew thorns thoughtfully,

along with pasture grass.

Gazelle and lioness have dinner.

Love is invisible, except here, in us.

Sometimes I praise love. Sometimes love praises me.

Love, a little shell somewhere

on the ocean floor, opens its mouth.

You and I and we, those imaginary beings,

enter the shell as a single drop of water.

You Are Most Handsome

Think that you're gliding out

from the face of a cliff like an eagle.

Think that you're walking like a tiger walks

by himself in the forest.

You are most handsome when you are after food.

Spend less time with nightingales and peacocks.

One is just a voice, the other just a color.

Harsh Evidence

What sort of person says that he or she

wants to be polished and pure,

then complains about being handled roughly?

Love is a lawsuit

where harsh evidence must be brought in.

To settle the case,

the judge must hear details.

You have heard that every buried treasure

has a snake guarding it.

Kiss the snake to discover the treasure.

The Death of Saladin

Gerhard Mantz, Left Hand of Darkness

You left ground and sky weeping,

mind and soul full of grief.

No one can take your place in existence,

or in absence. Both mourn, the angels, the prophets,

and this sadness I feel has taken from me

the taste of language, so that I cannot say

the flavor of my being apart.

The roof of the kingdom within has collapsed.

When I say the word you, I mean a hundred universes.

Pouring grief water or secret dripping

in the heart, eyes in the head,

or eyes of the soul, I saw yesterday

that all these flow out to find you

when you're not here.

That bright firebird Saladin

went like an arrow,

and now the bow trembles and sobs.

If you know how to weep

for human beings, weep for Saladin.

Whatever Gives Pleasure

Whatever gives pleasure

is the fragrance of the Friend.

Whatever makes us wonder

comes from that light.

What is inside the ground

begins to sprout

because you spilled wine there.

What dies in autumn comes up in spring,

because this way of saying no

becomes in spring your praise-song, yes.

Longing

Apollo and Daphne, by Gian Lorenzo Bernini

Longing is the core of mystery.

Longing itself brings the cure.

The only rule is, Suffer the pain.

Your desire must be disciplined,

and what you want to happen

in time, sacrificed.

On the Day I Die

On the day I die,

when I am being carried toward the grave,

don't weep. Don't say, He's gone. He's gone.

Death has nothing to do with going away.

The sun sets and the moon sets,

but they're not gone.

Death is a coming together.

The tomb looks like a prison,

but it's really release into union.

The human seed goes down into the ground

like a bucket into the well where Joseph is.

It grows and comes up

full of some unimagined beauty.

Your mouth closes here

and immediately opens

with a shout of joy there.