The wind whistles in the bamboo
and the bamboo dances.
When the wind stops,
the bamboo grows still.
A silver bird
flies over the autumn lake.
When it has passed,
the lake’s surface does not try
to hold on to the image of the bird.
~Poems by Vietnamese Dhyana Master Hai (Ocean of Fragrance)
Cited: Thich Nhat Hanh, The Heart of The Buddha’ Teachings