Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/like-the-lake-a-chinese-poet-sits-beside-in-a-painting/
