I cannot choose the best.
The best chooses me.
They throw their shadows before them who carry their lantern on
That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.
We, the rustling leaves, have a voice that answers the storms,
but who are you so silent?“
I am a mere flower.
Rest belongs to the work as the eyelids to the eyes.
Man is a born child, his power is the power of growth.
God expects answers for the flowers he sends us, not for the sun
The light that plays, like a naked child, among the green leaves
happily knows not that man can lie.
O Beauty, find thyself in love, not in the flattery of thy mirror.
My heart beats her waves at the shore of the world and writes upon
it her signature in tears with the words, “I love thee.“
Moon, for what do you wait?
To salute the sun for whom I must make way.
The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.
His own mornings are new surprises to God.
Life finds its wealth by the claims of the world, and its worth
by the claims of love.
The dry river-bed finds no thanks for its past.
The bird wishes it were a cloud.
The cloud wishes it were a bird.
The waterfall sing, “I find my song, when I find my freedom.“
I cannot tell why this heart languishes in silence.
It is for small needs it never asks, or knows or remembers.
Woman, when you move about in your household service your limbs sing
like a hill stream among its pebbles.
The sun goes to cross the Western sea, leaving its last salutation
to the East.
Do not blame your food because you have no appetite.
The trees, like the longings of the earth, stand atiptoe to peep
at the heaven.
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this
I had been waiting long.
The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy,
the bird in the air is singing.
But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and
the music of the air.
The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making
the music of sadness.
He has made his weapons his gods.
When his weapons win he is defeated himself.
God finds himself by creating.
Shadow, with her veil drawn, follows Light in secret meekness,
with her silent steps of love.
The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.
I thank thee that I am none of the wheels of power but I am one with
the living creatures that are crushed by it.
The mind, sharp but not broad, sticks at every point but does not move.