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Bruce lee

Bruce Lee

POEMS
FOLLOWERS
12

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

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

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.

The wind is in high frolic with the rain.
Outside the garden a little yellow leaf
Clinging desparately to its mother branch

I pick up the leaf
And put it in the book,
Giving it a home.

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?

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 surroundings utter no sound.
Time suddenly ceases.
Gently you fall into my arms.

The years of a lifetime never reach a hundred,
Yet they contain a thousand years’ sorrow.
When days are short and the dull night long,
Why not take a walk alone in the moonlight?

The bright moon, again, how white it shines,
Shines down on my lonely bed.
For a long time I have stayed in bed with my thoughts,
Racked by sorrow I toss and cannot sleep.
Picking up my clothes, I wander up and down.
The stars and planets are all grown dim in the sky,
Facing the moon, I stand hesitating, alone.
To whom can I tell my sad thought?

The good time will probably never come back again.
In a moment, our parting will be over.
Anxiously, I stopped the car by the roadside,
Hesitating, we hold hands.

The clouds above are floating across the sky,
Swiftly, swiftly passing, or blending together.
Petals fall quietly, birds call in the hills.
From now onwards, long must be our parting,
So let us stop once more for a while.

Like mountain streams, we part and meet again.
Everything is still,
Except the occasional lonely bark of a dog.

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.

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.

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?

I live in memory of a dream
Which has come and gone;
In solitude I sit on my boat
As it glides freely down the tranquil lake.

Across the blue sky, the swallows fly in couples;
On the still water, the Mandarin ducks swim, side by side.
Leaning on the oar I gaze at the water far away.
The sky far away, the loved one far away.

The sun goes down in flame on the far horizon,
And soon the sunset is rushing ti its height through
Every possible phase of violence and splendor.
The setting of the sun is supposedly a word of peace,
But an evening like the soft and invisible
Bonds of affection only adds distress to my heart.

Over the lake the round moon rises bright
And floods the horizon with her silver light.
I look into the water; it is as clear as the night.

When the clouds float past the moon,
I see them floating in the lake,
And I feel as though I were rowing in the sky.
Suddenly I thought of you—mirrored in my heart.

The lake sleeps in peace,
Not the faintest murmur of waves can be heard.
Lying back on the boat,
I try to conjure up the land of dream where I may seek for you.
But, alas, no dreams come.
Only a moving point of fire in the dark,
The distant light of a passing boat.

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.

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