The Gardener | Page 9

fear you should laugh.
That is why I laugh at myself and shatter
my secret in jest. I make light of my pain, afraid you should do so.
I long to tell you the truest words I have to say to you; but I dare not,
being afraid that you would not believe them.
That is why I disguise
them in untruth, saying the contrary of what I mean.
I make my pain
appear absurd, afraid that you should do so.
I long to use the most precious words I have for you; but I dare not,
fearing I should not be paid with like value.
That is why I gave you
hard names and boast of my callous
strength.
I hurt you, for fear
you should never know any pain.
I long to sit silent by you; but I dare not lest my heart come out at my
lips.
That is why I prattle and chatter lightly and hide my heart behind
words.
I rudely handle my pain, for fear you should do so.
I long to go away from your side; but I dare not, for fear my cowardice
should become known to you.
That is why I hold my head high and
carelessly come into your presence.
Constant thrusts from your eyes
keep my pain fresh for ever.
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O mad, superbly drunk;
If you kick open your doors and play the fool
in public;
If you empty your bag in a night, and snap your fingers at

prudence;
If you walk in curious paths and play with useless things;

Reck not rhyme or reason;
If unfurling your sails before the storm
you snap the rudder in two,
Then I will follow you, comrade, and be
drunken and go to the dogs.
I have wasted my days and nights in the company of steady wise
neighbours.
Much knowing has turned my hair grey, and much
watching has made my sight dim.
For years I have gathered and
heaped up scraps and fragments of things;
Crush them and dance
upon them, and scatter them all to the winds.
For I know 'tis the
height of wisdom to be drunken and go to the dogs.
Let all crooked scruples vanish, let me hopelessly lose my way. Let a
gust of wild giddiness come and sweep me away from my anchors.

The world is peopled with worthies, and workers, useful and clever.

There are men who are easily first, and men who come decently after.

Let them be happy and prosper, and let me be foolishly futile. For I
know 'tis the end of all works to be drunken and go to the dogs.
I swear to surrender this moment all claims to the ranks of the decent.

I let go my pride of learning and judgment of right and of wrong. I'll
shatter memory's vessel, scattering the last drop of tears. With the foam
of the berry-red wine I will bathe and brighten my laughter.
The
badge of the civil and staid I'll tear into shreds for the nonce.
I'll take
the holy vow to be worthless, to be drunken and go to the dogs.
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No, my friends, I shall never be an ascetic, whatever you may say. I
shall never be an ascetic if she does not take the vow with me. It is my
firm resolve that if I cannot find a shady shelter and a companion for
my penance, I shall never turn ascetic.
No, my friends, I shall never leave my hearth and home, and retire into

the forest solitude, if rings no merry laughter in its echoing shade and if
the end of no saffron mantle flutters in the wind; if its silence is not
deepened by soft whispers. I shall never be an ascetic.
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Reverend sir, forgive this pair of sinners. Spring winds to-day are
blowing in wild eddies, driving dust and dead leaves away, and with
them your lessons are all lost.
Do not say, father, that life is a vanity.

For we have made truce with death for once, and only for a few
fragrant hours we two have been made immortal.
Even if the king's army came and fiercely fell upon us we should sadly
shake our heads and say, Brothers, you are disturbing us. If you must
have this noisy game, go and clatter your arms elsewhere. Since only
for a few fleeting moments we have been made immortal.
If friendly people came and flocked around us, we should humbly bow
to them and say, This extravagant good fortune is an
embarrassment
to us. Room is scarce in the infinite sky where we dwell. For in the
springtime flowers come in crowds, and the busy wings of bees jostle
each other. Our little heaven, where dwell only we two immortals, is
too absurdly narrow.
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To the guests that must go bid God's speed and brush away all traces of
their steps.
Take to your bosom with a smile what