If the mind is a dragon
as the poet says
and a dragon is magic
is transformation
is energy
and able to shrink to
the size of a worm and
swell to
the space between
heaven and earth

then
your mind can
breathe in
the words of Li Shang-Yin
floating to you
on a breeze
from twelve centuries ago.

And if
his poem says
it’s hard to meet
but even harder
to part and

the spring silkworm
spins its threads
up to the instant of
death

and if he says
the candle only stops weeping
when it has turned to ash

and if
the poet thinks of
a woman who
grieves when she sees that
the hair on her temples
is turning white

and when she
chants poems at night
she only feels
the cold in the light
of the moon

and
the poet writes:
oh green bird come find her

in the last line of
his poem floating on
the breeze from
so long ago

then—
thanks to the dragons of
the poet’s mind and yours

you hope
the green bird finds her.

(With thanks to poet/translator Arthur Sze)