from Sorrow Came by Special Delivery

Special Delivery
 
Sorrow came by special delivery.
I don’t know who sent it,
there is no sender’s name and address.
I hasten to peel away the paper holding the sorrow,
but no matter how much I peel away, no sorrow emerges.
How has such a fine piece of sorrow been sent by someone,
such a beautiful sorrow
been delivered to me, who,
having lost love and grown quite blind,
can barely eat?
The wrapped sorrow makes me sad.
You, sorrow, come by special delivery to me
who has more dying days than living days,
please, remove the wrappings of sorrow for me
and just once in a lifetime
show me the true face of sorrow.
Until only one last teardrop remains,
I have to find who is sending me frozen sorrow by special delivery,
weeping on that snowy path,
and walk along that snowy path together with them.
 
 
 
Water Falling
 
It’s not a waterfall falling over the edge of a cliff,
not waves crashing at the foot of a cliff,
not the morning dew waiting for me,
condensed on the blades of grass before sunrise.
It’s late autumn tears
flowing down the drainpipe of an old apartment building
on a rainy autumn day.
It’s father’s old tears
as he slurred his words and stared at me, saying:
You’re busy. I want to talk to you
but you’re too busy.
These are the belated tears of my penance,
unable as I was to understand my father’s tears
as I roamed the world
busy telling lies,
tears falling before my father who has turned to dust.
 
 
 
Muddy Water
 
Don’t expect muddy water to become clear.
Don’t expect muddy water that has swept through a valley
one summer’s day to grow quiet.
If I want muddy water to become clear, I must first become clear,
have to kneel quietly, deep in contemplation,
for I do not expect the morning star to rise in muddy water.
I hope that muddy water stays muddy.
Just as if I met you early and we became one,
to produce muddy water, soil and water met and became one,
simply loving and hating each other.
Soil doesn’t become dirty soil when it meets water.
Water doesn’t become cloudy when it meets soil.
My heart has never been made dirty by muddy water splashing.
Once I thought I was rotting,
turned into red muddy water of anger and hatred.
Now, just seeing muddy water as such is beautiful.
Look at that paddy field where seedlings have just been planted.
It’s only when water becomes muddy that they can meet their mother in the soil.
It’s only when soil becomes muddy water that it can nourish the seedlings in the water.
 
 

Salt
 
All sugar is salt turned to salt
The sweetness of sugar is salt turned to salt
The temptation of sweetness is salt turned to salt
The sin of temptation is salt turned to salt
 
All unrighteousness is salt turned to salt
The wrath of injustice is salt turned to salt
The hatred of anger is salt turned to salt
The blade of hatred is salt turned to salt
 
The death of all sinners is salt turned to salt
The despair of death is salt turned to salt
The hope of despair is salt turned to salt
The dust of hope is salt turned to salt
 
All tears are salt turned to salt
The prayer of tears is salt turned to salt
The blessing of prayer is salt turned to salt
The thanksgiving of blessing is salt turned to salt.