Sacred Heart 32

Climbed high, to gaze upon the sea,
Heaven and Earth, so vast, so vast.
Frost clothes all things in Autumn,
Winds waft, the broad wastes cold.
Glory, splendor; eastward flowing stream,
This world’s affairs, just waves.
White sun covered, its dying rays,
The floating clouds, no resting place.
In lofty Wu-t’ung trees nest lowly finches.
Down among the thorny brush the Phoenix perches.
All that’s left, to go home again,
Hand on my sword I sing, “The Going’s Hard.”

Li Po (701 – 762) was a Chinese poet acclaimed as one of the best and most important in Chinese poetry. About 1,000 of his poems are extant.

Have you ever been on a walk or drive and just stopped for a moment to take in the view? That is what Li Po is describing in this song – that moment when the world and time hangs suspended and we become not only the experiencer but the experience itself. We become the vast distances, the shining sun, the frost in the autumn air. All of the world and its cares are left behind and then – all that is left is finish the journey home. “Hand on my sword I sing…”  and the world returns.