
I shouldn’t be happy
till everybody is,
Boddhisattva postponing bliss,
but let me be honest.
I take pleasure in a mocha,
seek like a cat the sunny spot
in my garden to read a book.
What do I pursue?
Rest after labor well done,
mirth among friends,
the way my sweetheart looks at me
when I make him laugh,
and laugh still more,
fleeting communion a foretaste
of what the Boddhisatva
is waiting for.