A blooming tree

A blooming tree

By Xi Murong (Taiwan)



The Buddha says the one encounter of this life is the fruit of five hundred glances back in one's previous life.



How could fate make us encounter,

At the moment, most beautiful

in my life?


For five hundred long years I'd prayed,

Entreating the Lord Buddha to

Let us meet.


He then turned me into a tree,

Standing by the road you must take.

In the sun, I gingerly bloom.


Each blossom

Is from my prelife, a prayer.

When you're near,


Hark! The leaves, just like my passion

Of waiting,

Are vibrating.


But you went by without noticing.

You left behind,

Alas, my friend,


Not petals but a heart withered.



(Translated by Pamela Niello)