169
Beauty smiles in the confinement of the bud,
in the heart of a sweet incompleteness.
170
Your flitting love lightly brushed with its wings
my sun-flower
and never asked if it was ready to surrender its honey.
171
Leaves are silences
around flowers which are their words.
172
The tree bears its thousand years
as one large majestic moment.
173
My offerings are not for the temple at the end of the road,
but for the wayside shrines
that surprise me at every bend.
174
Your smile, my love, like the smell of a strange flower,
is simple and inexplicable.
175
Death laughs when the merit of the dead is exaggerated
for it swells his store with more than he can claim.
176
The sigh of the shore follows in vain
the breeze that hastens the ship across the sea.