All is done and finished in the eternal Heaven。
But earth’s flowers of illusion are kept eternally fresh by death。
Brother; keep that in mind and rejoice。
The Gardener 69
I hunt for the golden stag。
You may smile; my friends; but I pursue the vision that eludes me。
I run across hills and dales; I wander through nameless lands; because I am hunting for the golden stag。
You e and buy in the market and go back to your homes laden with goods; but the spell of the homeless winds has touched me I know not when and where。
I have no care in my heart; all my belongings I have left far behind me。
I run across hills and dales; I wander through nameless lands—because I am hunting for the golden stag。
The Gardener 70
I remember a day in my childhood I floated a paper boat in the ditch。
It was a wet day of July; I was alone and happy over my play。
I floated my paper boat in the ditch。
Suddenly the storm clouds thickened; winds came in gusts; and rain poured in torrents。
Rills of muddy water rushed and swelled the stream and sunk my boat。
Bitterly I thought in my mind that the storm came on purpose to spoil my happiness; all its malice was against me。
The cloudy day of July is long today; and I have been musing over all those games in life wherein I was loser。
I was blaming my fate for the many tricks it played on me; when suddenly I remembered the paper boat that sank in the ditch。
The Gardener 71
The day is not yet done; the fair is not over; the fair on the river…bank。
I had feared that my time had been squandered and my last penny lost。
But no; my brother; I have still something left。 My fate has not cheated me of everything。
The selling and buying are over。 txt小说上传分享
园丁集 第十二章(4)
All the dues on both sides have been gathered in; and it is time for me to go home。
But; gatekeeper; do you ask for your toll?
Do not fear; I have still something left。 My fate has not cheated me of everything。
The Gardener 72
With days of hard travail I raised a temple。 It had no doors or windows; its walls were thickly built with massive stones。
I forgot all else; I shunned all the world; I gazed in rapt contemplation at the image I had set upon the altar。
It was always night inside; and lit by the lamps of perfumed oil。
The ceaseless smoke of incense wound my heart in its heavy coils。
Sleepless; I carved on the walls fantastic figures in mazy bewildering lines—winged horses; flowers with human faces; women with limbs like serpents。
The lull in the wind threatens storm; and the lowering clouds in the west bode no good。
The hushed water waits for the wind。
I hurry to cross the river before the night overtakes me。
O ferryman; you want your fee!
Yes; brother; I have still something left。 My fate has not cheated me of everything。