There are different wells within your heart.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far too deep for that.
In one well
You have just a few precious cups of water,
That "love" is literally something of yourself,
It can grow as slow as a diamond
If it is lost.
Your love should never be offered to the mouth of a Stranger,
Only to someone
Who has the valor and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you.
There are different wells within us.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far, far too deep
For that.
TIRED OF SPEAKING SWEETLY
Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.
If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy.
Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth
That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,
Causing the world to weep
On too many fine days.
God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.
The Beloved sometimes wants
To do us a great favor:
Hold us upside down
And shake all the nonsense out.
But when we hear
He is in such a "playful drunken mood"
Most everyone I know
Quickly packs their bags and hightails it
Out of town.
From: 'The Gift'
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
Two Giant Fat People
God
And I have become
Like two giant fat people
Living in a tiny boat.
We keep
Bumping into each other
and Laughing.
The Vintage Man
The difference
Between a good artist
And a great one Is:
The novice
Will often lay down his tool
Or brush
Then pick up an invisible club
On the mind's table
And helplessly smash the easels and jade.
Whereas the vintage man
No longer hurts himself or anyone
And keeps on sculpting
Light.
To Build a Swing
To build a Swing
You carry all the ingredients
To turn your life into a nightmare -
Don't mix them!
You have all the genius
To build a swing in your backyard for God.
That sounds like a hell of a lot more fun.
Let's start laughing, drawing blueprints.
Gathering our talented friends.
I will help you
With my divine lyre and drum,
Will sing in a thousand words
You can take into your hands,
Like golden saws,
Silver hammers,
Polished teakwood,
Strong silk rope.
You carry all the ingredients
To turn your existence into joy.
Mix them, mix them!
A Potted Plant
I pull a sun from my coin purse each day.
And at night I let my pet the moon
Run freely into the sky meadow.
If I whistled,
She would turn her head and look at me.
If I then waved my arms,
She would come back wagging a marvelous tail
Of stars.
There are always a few men like me
In this world
Who are house-sitting for God.
We share His royal duties:
I water each day a favorite potted plant
Of His--
This earth.
Ask the Friend for love.
Ask Him again.
For I have learned that every heart will get
What it prays for
Most.
From: 'The Subject Tonight Is Love'
