Whereas last night the full moon made the night resemble
a cold day
Today clouds give the night its old shrouded, crowding
demeanor.
Ghosts stalk the forest gleaming (at me) from just
beyond the circle of light thrown by the fire.
You, old night, I wish to make my peace with.
Eventually I know even I (I think, I'm told) must enter
naked, a cold north wind in winter or a gentle
September breeze instructing my sole spirit....
There exist powers overwhelming for the human body
and mind.
The aborigine's untold night of meditation on the
mountain, coming away with his life-long totem and
power.
The mountains tonight are alive with benevolence that
could (for one lacking humility and respect or the
hunter's perspicacity) flame up into insane
malevolence.
You, old complete night, I wish to make my peace with
Being utterly a creature of the water and the light.
Night on the mountain, the human animal alone, without
cohorts, speech and music inane without other ears
to listen
Yet blasting, blasting against the night
Even after fire dies, its skin still the halo beacon to
nothing in nothing,
Mind pouring on the electricity, outward to friends back
in the cities
Receiving in return only strange sounds.
The ear must differentiate and protect.
Just as fluids within keep the body balanced so must the
ear when the eyes are blinded by night
Balance the mind. Eyes, heroes of the day, enjoying
orgiastically autumnal delights
Are now slaves to every primeval passion of the mind.
But the ears: it is a sound they have heard before and
can identify.
Night, old strange night (were we once acquainted?) , I
wish to be at peace with you by becoming
knowledgeable.
Fear like fire clings to its fuel.
I wish to dampen passionate fears by attuning the five
senses to all that is normal dark and day.
To know the habits and cycles of everything I live beside
And my inner spirit become a silent tide attuned to
nature's lunacy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem