Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Following are several translations
of the 'Old Pond' poem, which may be
the most famous of all haiku:

Furuike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

        -- Basho

Literal Translation

Fu-ru (old) i-ke (pond) ya,
ka-wa-zu (frog) to-bi-ko-mu (jumping into)
mi-zu (water) no o-to (sound)

    The old pond--
a frog jumps in,
    sound of water.

Translated by Robert Hass

Old pond...
a frog jumps in
water's sound.

Translated by William J. Higginson

An old silent pond...
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again.

Translated by Harry Behn

There is the old pond!
Lo, into it jumps a frog:
hark, water's music!

Translated by John Bryan

The silent old pond
a mirror of ancient calm,
a frog-leaps-in splash.

Translated by Dion O'Donnol

old pond
frog leaping

Translated by Cid Corman

Antic pond--
frantic frog jumps in--
gigantic sound.

Translated by Bernard Lionel Einbond


'Dere wasa dis frogg
Gone jumpa offa da logg
Now he inna bogg.'

        -- Anonymous

Translated by George M. Young, Jr.

Old pond
leap -- splash
a frog.

Translated by Lucien Stryck

The old pond,
A frog jumps in:.

Translated by Allan Watts

The old pond, yes, and
A frog is jumping into
The water, and splash.

Translated by G.S. Fraser
Mark Jun 7
From the 3rd diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.      
This week's fun times and great adventures with Smoochy started at the small village pond, just down the road from my home. Which remember, is nestled amongst the trees on a hill in a little country town called, 'Shimmerleedimmerlee'.      
While down at the small village pond, I was feeding Buck the Duck, the wild duck that I have been feeding since I was about four years old. I noticed the water level had dropped down, since my last visit to the pond. I was worried the small village pond may not have enough water in it for Buck the Duck to swim in and drink his daily water.      
Soon, I was getting hungry, and I also had to feed Smoochy and Buck the Duck some of my Super Duper Triple Cheese sandwiches, made with a smidgen of strawberry jam and a small spread of vegemite between each layer of cheese.      
My mum had packed along with the sandwiches a bottle of berry juice and small cut up pieces of apple and banana, a small bunch of green grapes and lots of watermelon sliced into little triangle shapes. All placed together inside a clear plastic bag.      
Before opening the bag you should always turn the bag just three times upside down while at the same time moving all of your fingers between the fruit, from side to side (a bit like playing a trumpet) but with a nervous twitch, I guess) then turn the bag left to right five times only but never ever right to left. There you have it, my creation I call the "Colourful Take-Away Fruit-Blast in a BAG".      
Then, once that part is done you can eat it to your heart's content or until you are as full as a goog. If you like a bit more adventure, you can also perform the easy and exciting, but very secret add-on part which is called the JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra.      
I will give you the secret JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra instructions at the end of today's fun adventure diary entry, but only if you can keep it a secret. It's one of my favourite afternoon creations of all time.      
Ok, back to the day's fun adventure. That afternoon was extremely hot and I decided to take Smoochy home for a lie down in the backyard hammock which is hanging up between the two large trees and under the shade, near dad's unusually built and outrageously painted outback backyard shed, to cool down and rest.      
I told my dad Archie, that the water level in the village pond was at its lowest I have ever seen it in all of my years being there feeding Buck the Duck. Dad said he would take a look when he had time and let me know what's going on.      
The next week I went down to the nearly empty village pond, but Buck the Duck was nowhere to be seen. When dad got home from work he told me he had driven past the pond on the way to work that morning and told me the pond was losing its water because of the consistent hot weather we had been having lately. Dad said the water was evaporating rapidly and that's why Buck the Duck has left to find another home with plenty of water to swim in and drink from.      
I said, we have been feeding him since I was about four years old. It also feels like we have lost part of our family. Dad said, ‘Don’t  worry, I'll think of something, just give me a few days to work it out’.  
So off dad went, into his unusually built and outrageously painted outback backyard shed, to start thinking of a solution and try and get Buck the Duck back home where he belongs. He looked inside the grouse little pet mouse house he built for Smoochy and studied the tubing he designed for Smoochy to get from the top level down to the lower floor.      
All of a sudden, it clicked inside dad's very smart head. He went to the hardware shop and purchased a variety of things. Busy for days and even working at night in his unusually built and outrageously painted outback backyard shed.      
The day had arrived and dad took Smoochy and I down to the small and empty village pond, to show us what he had done.      
He had built a maze of small, medium and large round pipes made out of new coloured plastic and he had even painted them with cool cosmic colours with unusual designs.      
He had looped and even double looped the three different coloured size pipes as they went down the hill and into the small village pond.      
Dad knew that the hot sun would keep evaporating the water from the small village pond, so he used his brains and connected the pipes up to the homes bathroom and kitchen drainage water pipes. He had even installed a filter to pump clean recycled clear water back into the pond.      
Dad told us, the small green coloured tube was for the clean recycled water and Smoochy was to use the medium, yellow coloured tube to whizz down and finally the largest red coloured tube, was for the whole family and friends to use. I named dad's creation the "Tremendously Terrific Triple Tumbling Turning Travelling Tubes".      
After days of having fun, I slid down for the last time, via the large red coloured tube to swim in the pond and guess who bobbed his head up from the water? It was my good old friend, Buck the Duck. I was so happy to have our friendly small village pond duck, back at last.      
Oh I almost forgot to tell you the instructions for the add-on JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra creation. Have you got a pen and paper at the ready?      
Here it is. Hold the bag upside down and make a small hole in the very right-hand corner at the bottom of the bag, get a straw and put it in the hole. Then place a cup near the bag and slowly pour the juice through the straw into the cup. Once done take the straw out and place it in the cup. Then make the small hole into a much bigger hole and empty the rest into your bowl.      
So now you have fruit in a bowl that is not too soggy anymore from the "Colourful Take-Away Fruit-Blast in a BAG" and if you could follow the instructions correctly you also have a cup of fruit juice made from the JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra creation or for fun you can call it, if you can pronounce it.      
The "UpCDownPunchaHolePutinStrawPourtheJuiceinaCup"      
There you have it, but remember to keep it a secret ok?
© Fetchitnow
20 October 2019.
This children’s fun adventure book series, is only for children from ages, 1-100. So please enjoy.
Note: Please read these in order, from diary entry 1-12, to get the vibe of all of the characters and the colourful sense of this crazy mess.
Raj Arumugam Oct 2010
Quack! Quack! Quack!
Ok, where’s everybody?
I’ve been gliding round in this pond the last half
hour singing my Duck-thoven tunes:
Quack! Quack! Quack
Quack!Quack! Quack!
And so why’s everyone avoiding me
like I don’t know how to make conversation?
Quack? Quack?
The other day the duckling glided near
and asked if I’d share bits of the bread
thrown to me by
these pesky humans who can’t
read the Don’t-feed-the-ducks signs
and I swallowed the bread bits whole and said:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
And the silly duckling ran away crying! –
Hey how can I answer with food in my mouth?
Quack! Quack! Quack!
Your mum taught you to speak with food in your mouth?
Quack! Quack! Quack!
Have you got any brains in that quacking head of yours, duckling?

Really, no reason to avoid me…
I mean the other day they asked me what
I think about the environment and I said:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
and they all looked astonished
at the wisdom of my words.
So why avoid me now?
This cute **** duck glided quite close to me
and asked me what I thought about pre-marital ***
and I said: Quack! Quack! Quack!
and I flapped my wings and walked on water
and held my head high with the sweetest:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
and that silly female duck jumped to the overhanging branches
and refused to come down for all my quacking:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
Seriously, what’s this all about? –
You excite a ****** duck and then hide in the branches?
What’s this pond coming to!

The other day a silly fish swam close to me and asked
for directions round the pond and I said:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
And the fish said: Hey! I don’t understand Duck language.
Don’t you speak Finglish?

What the Duck! I said. Why don’t you learn Quacklish!

So where’s everybody?
And really I don’t understand why
everyone’s avoiding me.
I mean really I can qua-ttle off the Entire History of the Pond
and the Holy Texts Revealed by Duck God to the Duck Prophets
and I can quack about anything and I can quack
about all the wines and grog
and I can teach the creatures how to change pond water into wine;
and I can quack about all the delicacies in the pond
and I can sing too, listen:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
And such a delightful voice and such original tunes too!
A graduate of Duck-kovsky Underwater Academy.
And so – hey! – where’s everybody?
Why do they avoid me like I’ve got the Swine Flu or something?
Hey, I’m just a pond duck who likes to Quack! Quack! Quack!
You got a problem with that, you quacks!
She stood up from the bed straight faced, turned towards the door and made her way hastily through it. She neared the door ever quickly tears swelling in her eyes before ripping it open and leaving him sitting in the bedroom motionless and still.
He meanwhile stared at the ground in awe. Trying to piece together the past hour or so and especially what just happened. He remained frozen for a period before snapping too searching round the house for her, calling her name but received no reply. Upon making a round down the hallway, he could hear the door banging against the wall, open and empty...
He rushed outside in a mad panic and bolted to the end of the driveway frantically looking in either direction for her, but by now she was already approaching the entrance to a park she was familiar with, they’d been here before. She was already making her way across the frozen grass, it numbing her feet instantly. They stung as she made each step dressed solely in a jacket and boxers. The cold night air sent her into a shivering frenzy but her eyes were fixed on the pond.
Unaware of the girl whereabouts the boy overwhelmed with guilt and worry sprinted off down the street fueled by determination and adrenaline. Sprinting several hundred metres until he tripped and tumbled grazing his sides and knees, unfathomed and eyes swollen he stood and set off running harder determined not to give up. Through blurred eyes he failed to see a couple taking an evening stroll in front of him. With a loud grunt on the part of both parties he ploughed through shaking his head and continuing as he had.

The girl stood at the foot of the pond walking to the edge of the pond. “This is it...I'm finally leaving this hell I made...” she mumbled to herself as she closed her eyes and taking deep breathes she finished with “there's no going back now...” Taking a single step forward her frame plunged into pond, sinking, body freezing and trembling as it sank deeper into the dark abyss.

The park loomed ahead, with all that was left he pushed forward, hip and side bleeding from the fall. Wincing in pain he burst into the clearing. His eyes darted to and fro’ using the minimal light from the street lights to hopefully make out something, or someone.
His gaze turned to the dark forest suspecting she may have taken off inside, it was his only lead and so the boy made his way towards it only ceasing the adrenaline fueled sprint as the disruption of ripples in water caught his eye. He turned on his heel and headed for the pond, feet numb from the dew ridden grass. Meanwhile just below the surface and falling, the girl’s throat and lungs burned. With that she let out her final breath and begun to sink faster, eyes slowly closing She thought to herself "this is my final goodbye huh....sorry I couldn't make it spark...." The bubbles began to form on the surface of the pond which the boy quickly picked up on.
"Oh my ******* god no no no and no" he began yelling as he sprinted for the pond with a new sense of urgency, ripping his shirt off taking a deep breath before diving head first into the water not caring for the fact he couldn’t swim. The icy water almost knocked the wind out of him as he made contact, eyes burning, swimming faster and deeper. He could make out her pale hand above her head as she sunk. In horror the boy almost screamed underwater but knew better than to. With all he had left he grabbed hold of her hand heaving your body up and grabbing her limp body tightly. He couldn't really cry under water but his eyes started to close and he begun to run out of breath, pushing to the surface he took a breath just before the surface taking in water. He burst through the shimmering wall of black and crawled onto the bank coughing and spluttering, coughing up copious amounts of water dragging a lifeless body, and his own limp one up the steep muddy incline. Spark staggered to his knees resting on his palms, breathing hard and heavy. Gasping hungrily for air he turned to his companion. Her body was cold and pale blue. Frozen. Lifeless.
A story I wrote months ago, thought I'd finish it up and tweak the errors... this is a story that was derived from a roleplay I engaged in... Hope you enjoy
There -- is some fog above the pond.
There is some fog above the "pond."
Here is some fog above the pond.
There is some haze above the pond.
There is some fog... above the pond.
There is some fog over the pond.  
...There is, some fog above the pond.
There... is some fog above the pond.
There (some fog is above the pond.)
There is this fog above this pond.
....and so they swam together
the Bluegill and the Sunfish
respectful of one another
surviving each other
sharing the moths and flies and grasshoppers
that i provided them
taking turns snatching each from the surface
in their 10 gallon pond
that sits on a table in the corner,
one day I mistakenly added a 3rd
and together the Bluegill and the Sunfish attacked,
plucking one eye of the stunned little Perch
'If you wish to view us swimming together
whilst you contemplate another pathetic poem,
do not add a 3rd to our happy little pond
unless you plan on getting a larger pond!'
it was difficult to understand them through the bubbles,
but I got the message
I had no room for a bigger pond
so I let them be
I took One-Eye Perch back to the big Pond and released him
I hope he's still not swimming in circles
for many months they gave me much pleasure
I'd watch them chase each other through the sunken tugboats
and fake sea plants
seeing their surprised, then angry looks
when they'd bite down on a rubber worm I'd toss in their pond
only to eventually laugh about it
very often they'd come to the corner closest to the tv
and watch 'The Simpsons' with me
One day I realized that they had grown too big for their little home
and I sadly faced the fact that they must be returned to their birthplace;
the Hill High Pond
the next morning I gathered up Bluegill and Sunfish in a small bowl while they slept
I paddled a canoe to the middle of the Pond at daybreak and awoke my friends
at first they seemed confused, but it quickly dawned on them where they were and what my plan was
I gently lay them one by one into the clear, calm water
as they swam away slowly
turning to wave their little fins in both goodbye and thanks
a Carp the size of Moby **** appeared from below and made a quick snack of them both
a tear welled in my eye as I stare dumbfounded at the unsettled water
a Catfish that looked remarkably like Fred Sanford
stuck his head and whiskers out of the pond just long enough to say;
" Ain't that a *****!?"
I paddled reluctantly back to shore
where I spotted an old man fishing from the edge
apparently he had witnessed the entire episode
"Years ago I got friendly with a tuna I'd caught in the Black Sea
came home one day just in time to see his tail hangin' outta my cat Charlie's mouth
first rule of the Sea, son
Never get attached
they'll just break your heart"
...and so goes my tale of Bluegill and Sunfish
a tail of two fishes
A fourth-rate Mind
wants to be the big fish in a little pond
without realizing there's a bigger pond.

A third-rate Mind
is the big fish in a little pond
keeping other fish from leaving the little pond.

A second-rate Mind
wants to be in the big pond
but has too much self-doubt to try.

A first-rate Mind
realizes it doesn't really matter which pond it's in
and tries to grow regardless.
Following a whim~

A variation on a theme.
Terry Collett Jan 2014
Milka sat on her bicycle
looking at you
the Saturday morning sun
was warm

you'd just finished work
and had met her
by the bridge
where we going?

she asked
we could leave the bikes
at my place
and go into town

to the cinema
you said
what just sit there
in the dark

and not be able
to see each other
or such?
she said

we could ride
to where I used to live
and see the pond there
where I used to fish?

you said
is it far?
she said
not too far

she pulled a face
can't go to my place
she said
my mother's home

as she usually is
no chance
of being alone
with you there

she said grumpily
mine is no good
at weekends
you said

she looked at you
her eyes gazing
the old pond then
it is

she said
and you began to cycle
with her beside you
back up the hill

and by the farmhouse
where she lived
and along narrow lanes
between hedgerows

and birds flying out
and the occasional
car rushing by
she beside you

talking all the way
about how her mother
moans about her
not doing this or that

or not doing
the chores properly
and how her two brothers
tease her

about going out with you
and how you needed
to see a shrink
and you smile

knowing her brothers well
then you're on the main road
and a mile or so
and you are there

and go in
by the back way
along a narrow lane
and into the woods

behind the cottage
where you used to live
and along the narrow ride
through the woods

to the field
and then the pond
which is peaceful
and the water is still

and a few ducks
swim there
and birds sing
from tall trees

you rest the bikes
against trees
and sit on the grass
by the pond

quiet here
you said
we used to call this
the lake

who's we?
Milka said
my old girlfriend and I
you replied

where is she now?
we don't see
each other any more
you said

Milka said nothing
but gazed at the water
of the pond
at the ducks there

and looked
at the fish
just beneath
the surface

did you make out here?
she asked
now and then
you said

why bring me here?
she said moodily
it's quiet
and we can be alone

you said
is that all?
not wanting relive
old memories with me?

she said
you gazed at her
no of course not
that was a different thing

different love
so you say
she said
should we leave then?

you said
she stared at the pond
at the ducks drifting
and the sunlight

through the branches
of tall trees
she said

I like it here
she lay down
on the grass
sunlight on her face

her hands resting
on her abdomen
you lay beside her
did you really

make out here?
now and then
did no one see you?
not that we ever knew

you said
she smiled
what if someone had?

we didn't think of that
at the time
bet you didn't
she said

what was it like
the first time?
it's history
you said

we're what matters now
she nodded
yes I guess we are
she said

and the sun shone bright
through the tall trees
and a bird flew by
over head.
Chad A Dolezal Apr 2012
A feeling, an ocean and a dream to describe:
It’s another mid afternoon morning and the sunlight billows through the windows and pierces my eyes; they fight for consciousness and after some struggle with my two-ton eyelids, I managed to pick myself up and stagger off to the shower. Twenty minutes later, cleaned and clothed, I make my way downstairs to see what faces still linger in the house from the night before. With each step from under my feet comes a cold shrill scream; the nails, with a century of twisting and turning wiggled themselves free. With the slightest exchange of pressure, the nails give way and plunge back into the body of the stair from which they had escaped.  
It’s quiet downstairs. There’s not a sound; no voices of laughter echoing from the floors and off of the ceilings, not a sound of friends or strangers’ feet as they scramble to rustle up their clothes and belongings from the night prior. I had grown accustomed to hearing this in the morning and in all honestly, I’ve grown quite fond of the array of faces that had made camp here for the night. Usually this means front row seats to a race track where they all spin and run into one another to get started on their endless lists of routines and obligations. For the lucky few who get to vacation rather than push papers on the weekend, this meant a new companion and hopefully a day of company. Unfortunately, today the house is hallow, so empty it could make someone dream.
After pacing the house for a bit, the stillness starts to settle in; the leaking faucet growing unbearably ever more predominate with a slow crescendo of slurred reminders, drip no one’s home, drip you’re alone, drip what are you going to do? Drip, drip and the deafening silence like a parasite is crawling its way up and under my skin. My feet and hands get restless so I grab my acoustic guitar and head for the door.
On the porch, I take refuge on the cool concrete and light a cigarette; as the cherry churns the paper burns slowly, mimicking the melody of minors strummed ever so softly. My mind starts to wander, slipping into its self, lofting away like the ribbon of smoke from the cigarette. How funny it is that the greatest of men and minds have achieved the unbelievable; they unraveled the wheel, the moon met man from a tin can, empires leveled by the push of a button and as a tired heart’s tick softens, a surgeon’s scalpel cuts open and easily replaces it. With all the trophies brightly polished placed on the mantle of man there is not a space for the trophy that is truly worth parading; a cure for emotions. Irony, like a well aged whiskey, drunken my humor and ferments my appreciation. As a disease loneliness infests like a tumor, endlessly growing. The thoughts that once retreated so easily at the first hint of war are now back, glowing with vengeance tailored with armies; and they’ve got me cornered, it begins.
I start sinking, farther and farther down, unable to swim in this brackish abyss; any attempt to kick my legs, swing my arms has become a day dream, perhaps its only momentary paralysis caused from my leap of faith from my raft of hope that in my mind I had been previously enjoying the warm weather and smooth sailing; until the vessel caught a flame and was swallowed by the ocean of despair.
The light that once danced all alone up on the surface has retreated from fear. My lungs now burning as they cling to my last breath, they swell with anger, splitting at the seams from the pressure of the ocean’s hand gasping my poor lungs, tension alone compressing my entire chest I can feel the sharp pains as they are growing nearer and nearer to exploding, I clench my already squinted eyes from the burn of ocean’s salt. In some last attempt for survival with my eyes firmly tightened, just as the water starts to creep its way down my throat into my lungs I can feel the water begin to thicken.
No longer sinking into the great void of salted rift tides but resting gently on a mattress of sand. With my back exposed, the sun quickly heats my sopping wet T-shirt, my bones fill once again with life. Have I, by some lottery of luck, washed up on the beach? Scrapping the sand from my eyes in pursuit to unravel this mystery, the sand has magnetized itself to pruned skin and drenched clothing. I clear my eyes to the best of my ability, I can still feel the sand gritting in the folds of my eye lids and after a few fresh breaths of air which fill my sore lungs with relief, I roll over to sit up and dig my feet deep into the sand. I look out shielding my eyes from the blinding sun with my hand. I look to the left and then the right and quickly darting back and forth from each position, there is no ocean in view. What was my inevitable aquatic ending has now vanished; no longer sinking but standing. I am alone in what has become an ocean of sand; a desert of wandering and mystery.
With the blistering sun and vultures circling over head as constant reminder that this is in fact real; I began to stumble about for shelter. After what seemed like hours of hurdles the moon flies high while the sun sleeps in the southern sky, I find myself under a cliff of overhanging rocks; sitting down the rocks are warm and almost caressing. This bit of refuge reminds me of my mother; as a child I remember straying from her in a department store. Unknowing then that she had not been tailing me like a blood hound, until I turned around and as far as I knew she had vanished from the earth. After sprinting and retracing my steps like map I see her, the site of her from across the store fills me with joy, still sprinting I run to her, eyes like a fountain they poured into her arms as she held me there in her arms; they were warm and safe.
A faint smile crawls its way onto my face and the same tears of relief rain from my eyes and floods the ground; the sand now flooded starts to move vigorously from side to another. Out of the mist of their rumbling out gets pushed a blade of grass, and then another and another one by one pull their way out of the sand  to the surface; as the flowers start to blossom the slumbered sun awakes to a lush field of flowers filled with life. Within the field I move freely about, running in circles of familiar joy; the large sunflowers sway in the breeze of my arms as I run past them. The garden is beautiful with explosions of color all around held by peddles of flowers, and a small pond in the very center; a garden this perfect had to have been birthed by a gardener with the most beautiful of hands; Hands much like my grandfather.
Kneeling down beside the pond I splash some water with my hands on to my face to clear the filth from my pores. A gleam catches my eye from the mirror of the water, and I’m staring myself in the eyes. The pond isn’t reflecting what’s circled around me, but it’s reflecting me as a child, a bit older than the child crying for his mother; my face in the reflection, so precious and young just beaming full of life.
As if the pond were a movie screen the memory that had started to fade with age in my memory is playing crystal clear. I can see that little boy surrounded by familiar trees and flowers with the fields running farther than my eyes can see. That little boy is laying on the equally little wooden bridge that stretches over the little pond, my father laying beside him on the bridge with their heads and hands poking playfully over the edge of the bridge. Through the eyes of that little boy I can see a stick in hand trying to catch the nonexistent fish just as his father had showed him. My father looks down at me with a smile flooding his face as he says to me, “you know, Chad; I’m very lucky to have you, you’re all I could have ever asked for in this world. You’re a beautiful boy, a perfect son and I love you very much”. I remember watching a tear roll down the side of his face and watching it fall and disrupt the surface of the pond. Back on the other side of the glass; as his tear hits the pond the ripple breaks up the memory and just like the garden, the pond with the little bridge, my father and his sweet child; they all disappeared just as they had throughout my life. This time things felt different, not the cold touch of my bitter friend loneliness, but seeing that memory polished, shining new brings peace to my heavy heart.
A sharp sting burns my lips, the cigarette now burnt to the filter rips me back into body leaving the army, that ocean, the desert and the garden all behind. From footsteps behind me “I hoped I’d find you here”; I turn around and there she is, standing silhouetted by the sun, my angel. Charcoaled hair and island sky eyes, she had come to rescue me. “Hey you, I was hoping we could spend the day together; are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” I smile and nod my head. “Aright then come on.” and with that no longer in the vantage point window watching, but through a door and living.
Shashi  Dec 2010
The Lotus Pond
Shashi Dec 2010
The temple bell
Silently calls my soul
Echoes, all over the deep forest
In prayers of silent lotus song
Buddha too
As the pond whispers
From the surface calm

Alone in the deep forest,
I am prostrate in devotion
And search
Before your shore's
Of love, life and living
Laboriously moving, in every steps of sigh,
Pregnant with leaves, roots and
Residual karmic earth
-Lotus pond in deep in thought-

Wondering why
The flowers have to wither and fall
Before fruits can burst forth; in living
Why love and loss results, only in the end,
An acceptance,
Cowering in depths of empty soul?
Life regains calm,
Only, after
It has flowered through pain
And bonds?

Lotus can only flower
After breaking through
-The sludge of senses,
In the depths of love
From the depths of pond
The laughing Buddha
With laughter in His heart

Pond, all alone, in the darkness of night
Softly sighs
Goes back to living
On the temple’s Shore

The silent Buddha
Is not so silent, you see
Just listen with laughter in your heart
The lotuses do sing
The beautiful life's love song
@Shashi Nov 2010

— The End —