to be gentle

It is Spring in the mountains.

I come alone seeking you.

The sound of chopping wood echoes

Between the silent peaks.

The streams are still icy.

There is snow on the trail.

At sunset I reach your grove

In the stony mountain pass.

You want nothing, although at night

You can see the aura of gold

And silver ore all around you.

You have learned to be gentle

As the mountain deer you have tamed.

The way back forgotten, hidden

Away, I become like you,

An empty boat, floating, adrift.

~  Tu Fu (712-770)

translation by Kenneth Rexroth