49
In love I pay my endless debt to thee
for what thou art.
50
The pond sends up its lyrics from its dark in lilies,
and the sun says, they are good.
51
Your calumny against the great is impious,
it hurts yourself;
against the small it is mean,
for it hurts the victim.
52
The first flower that blossomed on this earth
was an invitation to the unborn song.
53
Dawn—the many-coloured flower—fades,
and then the simple light-fruit,
the sun appears.
54
The muscle that has a doubt of its wisdom
throttles the voice that would cry.
55
The wind tries to take the flame by storm
only to blow it out.
56
Life's play is swift,
Life's playthings fall behind one by one
and are forgotten.