Ninety times
the bell has tolled
and what is this?
It's still the heart of May.
Ninety torches
light the hall
and what is this?
The jewel is still asparkle.
Ninety stanzas
of the song we sing
and still we are but
even steven.
What is heaven?
the samurai asked,
and what is hell?
Hakuin only sneered.
So the samurai drew his sword,
but the Buddhist said,
What is this?
Why, this is hell.
The samurai sheathed his sword
and bowed before his zen.
What is this?
Why, this is heaven.
On earth,
Hakuin said,
this is heaven.
It's May, a gem, it's Eden.
Ninety questions we've asked,
or the same question
ninety times,
our answer still the same.
When it's always May,
and our Jewel still gleams,
all is Eden, Stevie, and
on earth, this is heaven.
Ninety beginnings
we've celebrated,
and what is this?
Ninety is but
a beginning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful. A loving tribute packed with wisdom that age grants us in exchange for our youth.