The poem
I taught myself to live simply and wisely, to look at the sky and pray to God, and to wander long before evening to tire my superfluous worries. When the burdocks rustle in the ravine and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops I compose happy verses about life's decay, decay and beauty. I come back. The fluffy cat licks my palm, purrs so sweetly and the fire flares bright on the saw-mill turret by the lake. Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof occasionally breaks the silence. If you knock on my door I may not even hear.
This is such a beautiful poem. Getting so lost in the simpleness of nature that the intrusion of someone knocking on the door may not be heard...wow.
She has her moments of writing about "decay, decay and life", and then the pleasant interruptions of the birds' sounds pull her to a peaceful realm. All the actions seem balanced and harmonious. "Zen"
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Amazing, I did not know about this topic up to now. Thankz.
mm... informative.
emm. cognitively text :))