A calm and serene as the moon,
the sun,
without any aura,
since dawn looks through a cloud
like a window upon the grove and
the meadow's green lawn.
From bank to bank
the river spreads broad
and in it repose in reverse
the selfsame meadow and
moon and cloud
and the selfsame
Universe.
Birds whisk up from under my
feet,
rabbits race off with lightning
speed,
and I don't touch anyone-
-isn't it odd ?
Through woods and meadows,
as kind as a god,
alone my own way I plod.
I gobble berries
and stand by a brook on my knees.
I love this water,
these roads,
these paths like a man
overcoming disease.
Alongside the bank my way I pick
without a shot-gun-just with a stick,
my soul and eyes open wide-
-like a boy.
To wander barefoot over the earth---
Is there a greater joy?
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