Sunday, July 3, 2011
We sit in this courtyard,
two forms, shadow outlines with one soul.
Birdsound, leaf moving, early evening star,
fragrant damp, and a sweet sickle curve of moon.
You and I in a round, unselved idling
in the garden-beauty detail.
The raucous parrots laugh,
and we laugh inside their laughter,
the two of us on a bench in Konya,
yet amazingly in Khorasan and Iraq as well.
Friends abiding this form,
yet also in another, outside of time, you and I.
translation by Coleman Barks
from The Big Red Book