Looking out of the corner of my eyes.
I see the joys of love’s offerings.
That once gave me such pleasure.
Ah, younger man I said.
The spring was overflowing
and the candle light never grew dim.
Everything stretched like a single
thread, nothing had a distant shape.
And as the gracious Buddha smiled.
There are the stones, your name
and the faded flowers.
A sweet fragrance now adrift.
A Wandering Poet 