Who understands the mysteries of the poppies
      when you look across the red fields.
Or hear the sound of long thunder,
     then bask in the saving rain.

Everything beautiful,
      the solitude of the single body.
Or sometimes, too, when the body is kissed
     on the lips or hands or eyelids tender.

Oh, for the pleasure of living in a body.

It may be, it may one day be
     this is a world haunted by happiness.
Where people finally are loved
     in the light of leaves.

The feel of bird wings passing by.

Here it might be that no one wants power;
     they don’t want more.
And so they are in the forest, old trees,
     or those small but grand.

And when you sleep, rapture, beauty,
     may seek you out.
Listen: there is secret joy,
     sweet dreams you may never forget.

How worthy this being, this imperfect human body.

If, when you are there, you see women
     wading on the water and clouds in the valley.
The smell of rain,
     or a lotus blossom rises out of round green leaves.

Remember there is always something
     greater, and, yet, more humble than ourselves.