THE BOOKS OF CRANES Poem by ZANG DI

Because of you, everything for me is
but practice. Start over,
or get lost in the self again.
To fly one's self is indeed great exercise.

The world falls, but not beneath me,
it lies in the distance, a deep hole,
a beautiful church whose god
is a snake caught in your hands. Once let go,

vows gain the dimensions of faith—the great
have their own way of loving, the small, their own subtleties.
The scarlet crown more elemental than the elements.
It's not too late to understand these—

it's never too late for you.
The world rising to its feet depends
on whether you can sleep on one leg gracefully.
The wind would make it difficult for us,

but for you, it adds style to your stance, carrying elegance
to the limits of all that I've ever reached.
The world has limits, so that we can see you stand
sharply against the numbness of humanity.