The wind blows on you,
The rain drops on you,
The sun shines on you,
You are brighter than before.
You turn your faces to the wind
And watch my mother and me,
Thinking of things I cannot mention
Outside of my mind.
Rambler Rose in the shining wind,
You smile at me,
Smile at my mother!
GIFT
This is mint and here are three pinks
I have brought you, Mother.
They are wet with rain
And shining with it.
The pinks smell like more of them
In a blue vase:
The mint smells like summer
In many gardens.
THE WHITE CLOUD
There are many clouds
But not like the one I see,
For mine floats like a swan in featheriness
Over the River of the Broken Pine.
There are many clouds
But not like the one that goes sailing
Like a ship full of gold that shines,
Like a ship leaning above blue water.
There are many clouds
But not like the one I wait for,
For mine will have a strangeness
Whiter than anything your eyes remember.
MOON THOUGHT
The moon is thinking of the river
Winding through the mountains far away,
Because she has a river in her heart
Full of the same silver.
THE OLD BRIDGE
The old bridge has a wrinkled face.
He bends his back
For us to go over.
He moans and weeps
But we do not hear.
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