Winter 1987 • Vol. IX No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1987 |

Courtesan

In the rock garden at Ryoan-ji,light snow is fallingfrom a clearing winter sky.It melts on the lips of stonesthat are touched by sun,giving hardness the feel of water. You have also learned to touchwith fire. Raisingthe low sun easily into stone,you offer your gifts of pleasurethrough flaming dampnessthat is as soft as melting snow.

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