The palm at the end of the mind, beyond the last thought, rises in the bronze distance. A gold feathered bird sings in the palm, without human meaning, without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason that makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

no sorrow

Из привязанности рождается страх,
Из привязанности рождается печаль.
Если нет привязанности, нет печали,
Откуда страх.

Clinging to what is dear brings sorrow.
Clinging to what is dear brings fear,
To one who is entirely free from endearment
There is no sorrow or fear.

The Dhammapada
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