When I go to the woods
I do not write “I was here”
On the bark of some tree;
I do not leave plastic bags,
Or cups and beer bottles
To commemorate my stay;
It is enough that I see
Unobtrusively, for a while,
The forest aflame in autumn,
As white water rushes down
The green ancient mountains
Under a benign blue sky;
I do not need too much more:
The deer will graze again,
Here where I stand watching;
The daisies will grow quietly,
And rain will fall on this meadow
When I leave without a footprint;
So it should be with my life.
Too much value is given
To the quest for permanence;
I shall be like the summer wind
That passes through the woods
Invisible but scented:
It shall not matter when I’m gone.
But I shall be glad to have seen
All this beauty, and these woods,
Though briefly, ah so briefly.
Diptesh Ghosh
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 9:28 AM UTC
When I go to the woods
I do not write “I was here”
On the bark of some tree;
I do not leave plastic bags,
Or cups and beer bottles
To commemorate my stay;
It is enough that I see
Unobtrusively, for a while,
The forest aflame in autumn,
As white water rushes down
The green ancient mountains
Under a benign blue sky;
I do not need too much more:
The deer will graze again,
Here where I stand watching;
The daisies will grow quietly,
And rain will fall on this meadow
When I leave without a footprint;
So it should be with my life.
Too much value is given
To the quest for permanence;
I shall be like the summer wind
That passes through the woods
Invisible but scented:
It shall not matter when I’m gone.
But I shall be glad to have seen
All this beauty, and these woods,
Though briefly, ah so briefly.
Diptesh Ghosh
