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Bruce lee

Bruce Lee

POEMS
FOLLOWERS
12

Young man,
Seize every minute
Of your time.

Thedays fly by;
Ere long you too
Will grow old.

If you believe me not,
See there, in the courtyard,
How the frost
Glitters white and cold and cruel
On the grass that once was green.

Do you not see
That you and I
Are as the branches
Of one tree?

With your rejoicing,
Comes my laughter;
With your sadness
Start my tears.

Love,
Could life be otherwise
With you and me?

I sit through the long night
In the high tower,
And listen to the autumn rain
Outside my window.

There is no sound of human life,
Save now and then
A belated traveler hastening by.

Through the dark heaven,
A wild goose wings his lonely flight.
In the chill gloom
A cricket calls
The water drips mournfully
From the t’ung trees;
And the blossoms
Flutter sadly
To the rain—soaked earth.

Sadness broods
Over the world.
I fear to walk in my garden,
Lest I see
A pair of butterflies
Disporting in the sun
Among the flowers.

Alone I wander in silence
And in the sky the two escaped parakeets
Fall from fear of fishermen.

The two fish swim;
One white, one gold.
From the picket fence
A pink rose reaches out to the sun.
Among the flowers, two butterflies fly.
They might know where they want to go,
But they do not know how to get there.

Once more I hold you in my arms;
And once more I lost myself in
A paradise of my own.

Right now you and I are in
A golden boat drifting freely on a sunny sea
Far, far away from the human world.
I am happy as the waves dancing around us.

Too much analysis kills spontaneity,
As too much light dazzles my eyes.
Too much truth astonishes me.
Despite all obstacles,
Love still exists between us.

It is useless to try to stir the dirt
Out of the muddy water,
As it will be come murkier.
But leave it alone,
And if it should be cleared;
It will become clear by itself.

Rain,
Black clouds,
Fallen blossoms and pale moon,
The hurried flight of birds
The arrival of lonely autumn
The time for us to part.

The clouds above are floating across the sky
Swiftly, swiftly passing,
Or blending together.

Much has been said, yet we have not
Come to the end of our feelings.
Long must be this parting, and
Remember, remember that all
My thoughts have always been of you.

The good time will probably never come back again.
In a moment——our parting will be over.
When days are short and dull nights long

Read this poem I leave you, read it
When the silence of the world possesses you,
Or when you are fretted with disquiet.
Long must be this parting, and
Remember, remember that all
My thoughts have always been of you.

The dying sun lies sadly in the far horizon.
The autumn wind blows mercilessly;
The yellow leaves fall.
From the mountain peak,
Two streams parted unwillingly,

One to the West, one to the East.
The sun will rise again in the morning.
The leaves will be green again in spring.
But must we be like the mountain stream,
Never to meet again?

Love is like a friendship caught on fire.
In the beginning a flame,
Very pretty, often hot and fierce
But still and only light and flickering.

As love grows older, our hearts mature
And our love becomes as coals,
Deep-burning and unquenchable.

It is spring,
And somewhere in the night
A lute is playing.
It sings of youth and joy,
And love.

But what can it mean to me,
When my heart is with you
A thousand li away?

I wish neither to possess,
Nor to be possessed.
I no longer covet paradise,
More important, I no longer fear hell.

The medicine for my suffering
I had within me from the very beginning,
But I did not take it.
My ailment came from within myself,
But I did not observe it
Until this moment.

Now I see that I will never find the light
Unless, like the candle, I am my own fuel,
Consuming myself.

2

Who knows when meeting shall ever be.
It might be for years or
It might be forever.

Let us then take a lump of clay,
Wet it, pat it,
And make an image of you
And an image of me.
Then smash them, crash them,
And, with a little water,
Knead them together.

And out of the clay we’ll remake
An image of you, and an image of me.
Thus in my clay, there’s a little of you,
And in your clay, there’s a little of me.
And nothing will ever set us apart.

Living, we’ll be forever in each other’s heart,
And dead, we’ll be buried together.

1

For a moment
The surrounding utters no sound.
Time ceases.
The paradise of dreams come true.

The breeze on the bank
Already blows cool and mild;
The distant merging of lake and sky
Is but a red trace of sunset.

The deep silence of the lake,
Cuts of all tumult from me.
Along the lonely bank
I move with slow footsteps:

Alone the disturbed frogs scurry off.
Here and there are houses,
Cool beads of light spring out from them.

A dazzling moon
Snines down from the lonely depths of the sky.
In the moonlight slowly I move to a gung fu form.
Body and soul are fused into one.