Waiting for Spring, A Gentle Call to Practice
By Phan Tan Hai
Awake, waiting for the new year—
the wind steeped in tea’s fragrance;
past midnight, hair turned white,
a lifetime nearly gone.
I write upon the page
the ancient words of Scripture,
inviting you to read again,
to take a step across the shore.
Life is very short—
today we laugh and speak,
tomorrow we are ash and dust,
scattered by the wind across the sky.
To repay our parents’ grace,
nothing surpasses practice:
seeing Buddha in each flower,
smiling the smile of eternity.
Poems and prose—fine garments,
reflections in a mirror;
carriages, silks, and paintings—
all shimmering illusions.
Wine, beauty, pleasures—
leave them behind, my dear;
a wanderer’s life
passes like dust across the threshold.
Sit down with me,
soften your heart,
search within your breath
for spring’s silent fragrance.
Let go, my dear—
past and future both;
the Buddha teaches liberation
is found in this very moment.
Clumsily, I sketch
the wondrous mind of Nirva?a—
an endless spring,
where every day is spring.
--- Written in the first days of 2020
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