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November 23, 2014

"The Old Mendicant"

It is strange that sometimes you stumble across a poem that makes an unknown, indefinable chord sing inside of you. You read the poem and notice that certain phrases, thoughts or mere words stream from the sheet of paper through your eyes into your mind, where they spark a simple, satisfied smile. That is the magic of well-chosen, deeply felt words by the poet, which transmit his thoughts, his being in the precious moment of writing.

Well, such a poem is that by the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh that I discovered today on a Facebook page dedicated to his wisdom, teachings and art. I just have to share it here and, for German readers also made a translation which can be found here. Enjoy this gem!

The Old Mendicanct

Being rock, being gas, being mist, being mind,
being the mesons travelling among the galaxies
at the speed of light,
you have come here, my beloved.
And your blue eyes shine, so beautiful, so deep.
You have taken the path traced for you
from the non-beginning and the never-ending.
You say that on your way here
you have gone through
many millions of births and deaths.
Innumerable times you have been transformed
into firestorms in outer space.
You have used your own body
to measure the age of the mountains and rivers.
You have manifested yourself
as trees, grass, butterflies, single-celled beings,
and as chrysanthemums.
But the eyes with which you look at me this morning
tell me that you have never died.
Your smile invites me into the game
whose beginning no one knows,
the game of hide-and-seek.

O green caterpillar, you are solemnly using your body
to measure the length of the rose branch that grew last Summer.
Everyone says that you, my beloved, were just born this Spring.
Tell me, how long have you been around?
Why wait until this moment to reveal yourself to me,
carrying with you that smile which is so silent and so deep?
O caterpillar, suns, moons, and stars flow out each time I exhale.
Who knows that the infinitely large must be found
in your tiny body?
Upon each point on your body,
thousands of Buddha fields have been established.
With each stretch of your body, you measure time
from the non-beginning to the never-ending.
The great mendicant of old is still there on Vulture Peak,
contemplating the ever-splendid sunset.

Gautama, how strange!
Who said that the Udumbara flower blooms
only once every 3,000 years?

The sound of the rising tide - you cannot help hearing it
if you have an attentive ear.

(by Thich Nhat Hanh)