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


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