Nirvana Days Part 1

Nirvana Days.

by Cale Young Rice.

INVOCATION

(_From a High Cliff_)

Sweep unrest Out of my blood, Winds of the sea! Sweep the fog Out of my brain For I am one Who has told Life he will be free.

Who will not doubt of work that's done, Who will not fear the work to do.

Who will hold peaks Promethean Better than all Jove's honey-dew.

Who when the Vulture tears his breast Will smile into the Terror's Eyes.

Who for the World has this Bequest-- Hope, that eternally is wise.

THE FAIRIES OF G.o.d

Last night I slipt from the banks of dream And swam in the currents of G.o.d, On a tide where His fairies were at play, Catching salt tears in their little white hands, For human hearts; And dancing dancing, in gala bands, On the currents of G.o.d; And singing, singing:-- _There is no wind blows here or spray-- Wind upon us!

Only the waters ripple away Under our feet as we gather tears.

G.o.d has made mortals for the years, Us for alway!

G.o.d has made mortals full of fears, Fears for the night and fears for the day.

If they would free them from grief that sears, If they would keep all that love endears, If they would lay no more lilies on biers-- Let them say!

For we are swift to enchant and tire Time's will!

Our feet are wiser than all desire, Our song is better than faith or fame; To whom it is given no ill e'er came, Who has it not grows chill!

Who has it not grows laggard and lame, Nor knows that the world is a Minstrel's lyre, Smitten and never still!..._ Last night on the currents of G.o.d.

A SONG OF THE OLD VENETIANS

The seven fleets of Venice Set sail across the sea For Cyprus and for Trebizond Ayoub and Araby.

Their gonfalons are floating far, St. Mark's has heard the ma.s.s, And to the noon the salt lagoon Lies white, like burning gla.s.s.

The seven fleets of Venice-- And each its way to go, Led by a Falier or Tron, Zorzi or Dandalo.

The Patriarch has blessed them all, The Doge has waved the word, And in their wings the murmurings Of waiting winds are heard.

The seven fleets of Venice-- And what shall be their fate?

One shall return with porphyry And pearl and fair agate.

One shall return with spice and spoil And silk of Samarcand.

But nevermore shall _one_ win o'er The sea, to any land.

_Oh, they shall bring the East back, And they shall bring the West, The seven fleets our Venice sets A-sail upon her quest.

But some shall bring despair back And some shall leave their keels Deeper than wind or wave frets, Or sun ever steals._

NIRVANA DAYS

I

If I were in j.a.pan today, In little j.a.pan today, I'd watch the sampan-rowers ride On Yokohama bay.

I'd watch the little flower-folk Pa.s.s on the Bund, where play Of "foreign" music fills their ears With wonder new alway.

Or in a kuruma I'd step And "Noge-yama!" cry, And bare brown feet should wheel me fast Where Noge-yama, high Above the city and sea's vast Uprises, with the sigh Of pines about its festal fanes Built free to sun and sky.

And there till dusk I'd sit and think Of Shaka Muni, lord Of Buddhas; or of Fudo's fire And rope and lifted sword.

And, ere I left, a surging shade Of clouds, a distant horde, Should break and Fugi's cone stand clear-- With sutras overscored.

Sutras of ice and rock and snow, Written by hands of heat And thaw upon it, till 'twould seem Meant for the final seat Of the lord Buddha and his bliss-- If ever he repeat This life where millions still are bound Within Illusion's cheat.

II

Or were I in j.a.pan today-- Perchance at Kyoto-- Down Tera-machi I would search For charm or curio.

Up narrow stairs in sandals pure Of soil or dust I'd go Into a room of magic shapes-- G.o.ds, dragons, dread Nio.

And seated on the silent mats, With many a treasure near-- Of ivory the G.o.ds have dreamt, And satsuma as dear, Of bronzes whose mysterious mint Seems not of now or here-- I'd buy and dream and dream and buy, Lost far in Maya's sphere.

Then gathering up my gains at last, Mid "sayonaras" soft And bows and gentle courtesies Repeated oft and oft, My host and I should part--"O please The skies much weal to waft His years," I'd think, then cross San-jo To fair Chion-in aloft.

For set aloft and set apart, Beyond the city's din, Under the shade of ancient heights Lies templed calm Chion-in.

And there the great bell's booming fills Its gates all day, and thin Low beating on mokugyo, by Priests pa.s.sioning for sin.

And there the sun upon its courts And carvings, G.o.ds and graves, Rests as no light of earth-lands known, Like to Nirvana laves And washes with sweet under-flow Into the soul's far caves.

And no more shall this life seem real To one who feels its waves.

"No more!" I'd say, then wander on To Kiyomizu-shrine, Which is so old antiquity's Far self cannot divine Its birth, but knows that Kwannon, she Of mercy's might benign, Has reached her thousand hands always From it to Nippon's line.

And She should hear my many prayers, And have my freest gifts.

And many days beside her should I watch the crystal rifts Of Otawa's clear waters earn Their way, o'er rocks and drifts, Beside the trestled temple down-- Like murmurs of sweet shrifts.

Then, when the city wearied me, To Katsura I'd wend-- A garden hid across green miles Of rice-lands quaintly penned.

And, by the stork-bestridden lake, I'd walk or musing mend My soul with lotus-memories And hopes--without an end.

III

Or were I in j.a.pan today, Hiros.h.i.+ma should call My heart--Hiros.h.i.+ma built round Her ancient castle wall.

By the low flowering moat where sun And silence ever fall Into a swoon, I'd build again Old days of Daimyo thrall.

Of charge and b.l.o.o.d.y countercharge, When many a samurai Fierce-panoplied fell at its pale, Suppressing groan or cry; Suppressing all but silent hates That swept from eye to eye, While lips smiled decorously on, Or mocked urbane goodbye.