241
I feel that the ferry of my songs at the day's end
will bring me across to the other shore
from where I shall see.
242
The butterfly flitting from flower to flower
ever remains mine, I lose the one that is netted by me.
243
Your voice, free bird, reaches my sleeping nest,
and my drowsy wings dream of a voyage to the light above the clouds.
244
I miss the meaning of my own part
in the play of life because I know not of the parts
that others play.
245
The flower sheds all its petals
and finds the fruit.
246
I leave my songs behind me
to the bloom of the ever-returning honeysuckles
and the joy of the wind from the south.
247
Dead leaves when they lose themselves in soil
take part in the life of the forest.
248
The mind ever seeks its words
from its sounds and silence
as the sky from its darkness and light.