Stars fade like memory the instant before dawn,
Low in the east, the sun appears golden as an opening eye.
That which can be named must exist.
That which is named can be written.
That which is written shall be remembered.
That which is remembered lives.
I am learning to master thought, to do as I say I do, to say I feel what I feel. I am not angry when I speak gentle words. I do not beat the donkey and call myself beloved of gods. Truly I strive to carry the load without noticing the burden, to be on this hot earth a cool jug of water, to stand in the wind like sturdy sycamore branches, a place where birds rest, where cattle gather, where sap rises, wherein earth and sky are home.
--Translated by Normandi Ellis
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