The Crescent Moon | Page 4

I bring sweet things to your greedy hands, I know why there is
honey in the cup of the flower, and why fruits are secretly filled with
sweet juice--when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands.
When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling, I surely
understand what pleasure streams from the sky in morning light, and
what delight the summer breeze brings to my body--when I kiss you to
make you smile.

DEFAMATION
Why are those tears in your eyes, my child?
How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing?
You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing--is that
why they call you dirty?
O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty because it has
smudged its face with ink?

For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They are ready to find
fault for nothing.
You tore your clothes while playing--is that why they call you untidy?
O, fie! What would they call an autumn morning that smiles through its
ragged clouds?
Take no heed of what they say to you, my child.
Take no heed of what they say to you, my child.
They make a long list of your misdeeds. Everybody knows how you
love sweet things--is that why they call you greedy?
O, fie! What then would they call us who love you?

THE JUDGE
Say of him what you please, but I know my child's failings.
I do not love him because he is good, but because he is my little child.
How should you know how dear he can be when you try to weigh his
merits against his faults?
When I must punish him he becomes all the more a part of my being.
When I cause his tears to come my heart weeps with him.
I alone have a right to blame and punish, for he only may chastise who
loves.

PLAYTHINGS
Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken

twig all the morning.
I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.
I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.
Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your
morning with!"
Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.
I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.
With whatever you find you create your glad games, I spend both my
time and my strength over things I never can obtain.
In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I
too am playing a game.

THE ASTRONOMER
I only said, "When in the evening the round full moon gets entangled
among the branches of that Kadam tree, couldn't somebody
catch it?"
But dâdâ [elder brother] laughed at me and said, "Baby, you are
the silliest child I have ever known. The moon is ever so far from us,
how could anybody catch it?"
I said, "Dâdâ how foolish you are! When mother looks out of her
window and smiles down at us playing, would you call her far away?"
Still said, "You are a stupid child! But, baby, where could you find a
net big enough to catch the moon with?"
I said, "Surely you could catch it with your hands."
But dâdâ laughed and said, "You are the silliest child I have known. If

it came nearer, you would see how big the moon is."
I said, "Dâdâ, what nonsense they teach at your school! When mother
bends her face down to kiss us does her face look very big?"
But still dâdâ says, "You are a stupid child."

CLOUDS AND WAVES
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me--
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon.
I ask, "But, how am I to get up to you?" They answer, "Come to the
edge of the earth, lift up your hands to the sky, and you will be taken up
into the clouds."
"My mother is waiting for me at home," I say. "How can I leave her
and come?"
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will be the
blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me--
"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know not
where we pass."
I ask, "But, how am I to join you?" They tell