Every day I see or hear something that more or less
kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle
in the haystack of light.
It was what I was born for - to look, to listen, to lose myself
inside this soft world - to instruct myself
over and over in joy, and acclamation.
Nor am I talking about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful, the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary, the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar, I say to myself,
how can you help but grow wise
with such teachings as these -
the untrimmable light of the world,
the ocean's shine, the prayers that are made out of grass?