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POEM-SEQUENCE FROM THE JAPANESE
Hidden Builders
I built for myself an abode that was planned of materials only, | |
| Carefully choosing each hollow bamboo; | |
| But spirit-things also wove themselves into it, twining like tendrils through lattices, | |
| Distilling their atmospheres finer than air, not fashioned for breathing; | |
| Unseen and unguessed by the workmen, they too were the builders and weavers, | 5 |
| Endlessly weaving. | |
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Hoarded Love
House I have loved with a love like that of a man for a woman, | |
| Love like an ether now clasps you and folds you! | |
| House I have blessed with a blessing like that of father for daughter, | |
| Back from your walls, as I gazed open-eyed at the midnight, | 10 |
| Blessings returned like the voices persistent of temple bells ringing, | |
| Clearer than silver! | |
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Love Reflected
The Buddha blessed the bread before he brake the loaf | |
| And gave to his disciples; | |
| For soulless things are sensitive to love; | 15 |
| They gather, hoard, and then in kind return, | |
| They thrill with gathered and reflected love, | |
| Vibrating bell-like. | |
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Heredity
I dreamed a dream about a living house, | |
| Pulsing and throbbing. | 20 |
| Perplexed I climbed its ancient way of stairs | |
| To find within its teeming haunted brain | |
| All moving shapes that there had lived or died, | |
| Endlessly living. | |
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Coming Generations
Before the dawn-birds sang, uncertain little feet | 25 |
| Frequently pattered | |
| On floors that claimed no echo from the listening walls. | |
| The sleepers on their white beds stirred and thrilled, | |
| But did not hear the childish phantom feet | |
| Beating their music. | 30 |
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Desire for Children
The morning birds had ceased their first light-greeting song | |
| And flown for food and water | |
| Before I knew I dreamed of children never born. | |
| O little feet so musical upon the stairs! | |
| O little voices speaking in the inner ear | 35 |
| Foolishly dreaming! | |
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Waters of Bitterness
I think my heart will smother me, | |
| Beating against my side; | |
| For within the room above, | |
| Surrounded by those who can not help, | 40 |
| Languishes one I love, | |
| Patiently suffering. | |
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Passing Generations
The wind sings in the chimney, | |
| Breathing where it will. | |
| Doors stand open and close again silently; | 45 |
| A great peace broods under the many roofs; | |
| The walls, listening vainly for footsteps, | |
| Seem to be waiting. | |
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The Flow of Time
Long have I waited for the spring, | |
| Praying for time to pass. | 50 |
| Now the cherry trees are white like snow | |
| And violets are blue in the fields: | |
| But well I know that they who made it spring | |
| Are not returning. | |
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The House of Quietness
The wind sings in the chimney, | 55 |
| Rising and dying. | |
| The stillness of the empty house is a persistent voice. | |
| I hear its sibilant whisper like the waters of a sea. | |
| For hours I lie and listen to the waves of silence, | |
| Ceaselessly breaking. | 60 |
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Opened Windows
Have mind and heart like children been deceived, | |
| Grasping at shadows? | |
| For still they whisper that they infinitely love | |
| And feel that they are infinitely loved; | |
| And this they always knew yet never comprehended | 65 |
| Until the voice of the essential silence | |
| Whispered its secret. | |
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The Time of Blossom
And the unplanted vines have grown and spread, | |
| Filling the lattices; | |
| The living walls are gay with crowded bloom, | 70 |
| The little footsteps patter down the walks | |
| And little voices fill the fragrant halls, | |
| Laughing and loving. | |
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