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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358603" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Senlin: His Cloudy Destiny</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Senlin sat before us and we heard him. <br>He smoked his pipe before us and we saw him. <br>Was he small, with reddish hair, <br>Did he light his pipe with a meditative stare <br>And a twinkling flame reflected in blue eyes? <br>'I am alone': said Senlin; 'in a forest of leaves <br>The single leaf that creeps and falls. <br>The single blade of grass in a desert of grass <br>That none foresaw and none recalls. <br>The single shell that a green wave shatters <br>In tiny specks of whiteness on brown sands . . . <br>How shall you understand me with your hearts, <br>Who cannot reach me with your hands? . . .'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The city dissolves about us, and its walls <br>Are the sands beside a sea. <br>We plunge in a chaos of dunes, white waves before us <br>Crash on kelp tumultuously, <br>Gulls wheel over foam, the clouds blow tattered, <br>The sun is swallowed . . . Has Senlin become a shore? <br>Is Senlin a grain of sand beneath our footsteps, <br>A speck of shell upon which waves will roar? . . . <br>Senlin! we cry . . . Senlin! again . . . no answer, <br>Only the crash of sea on a shell-white shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, we would say, this is no shore at all, <br>But a small bright room with lamplight on the wall; <br>And the familiar chair <br>Where Senlin sat, with lamplight on his hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">2</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Senlin, alone before us, played a music. <br>Was it himself he played? . . . We sat and listened, <br>Perplexed and pleased and tired. <br>'Listen!' he said, 'and you will learn a secret-- <br>Though it is not the secret you desired. <br>I have not found a meaning that will praise you! <br>Out of the heart of silence comes this music, <br>Quietly speaks and dies. <br>Look! there is one white star above black houses! <br>And a tiny man who climbs toward the skies! <br>Where does he walk to? What does he leave behind him? <br>What was his foolish name? <br>What did he stop to say, before he left you <br>As simply as he came? <br>&quot;Death?&quot; did it sound like, &quot;love and god, and laughter, <br>Sunlight, and work, and pain . . .?&quot; <br>No--it appears to me that these were symbols <br>Of simple truths he found no way to explain. <br>He spoke, but found you could not understand him-- <br>You were alone, and he was alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;He sought to touch you, and found he could not reach you,-- <br>He sought to understand you, and could not hear you. <br>And so this music, which I play before you,-- <br>Does it mean only what it seems to mean? <br>Or is it a dance of foolish waves in sunlight <br>Above a desperate depth of things unseen? <br>Listen! Do you not hear the singing voices <br>Out of the darkness of this sea? <br>But no: you cannot hear them; for if you heard them <br>You would have heard and captured me. <br>Yet I am here, talking of laughter. <br>Laughter and love and work and god; <br>As I shall talk of these same things hereafter <br>In wave and sod. <br>Walk on a hill and call me: &quot;Senlin! . . . Senlin! . . .&quot; <br>Will I not answer you as clearly as now? <br>Listen to rain, and you will hear me speaking. <br>Look for my heart in the breaking of a bough . . .'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">3</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Senlin stood before us in the sunlight, <br>And laughed, and walked away. <br>Did no one see him leaving the doors of the city, <br>Looking behind him, as if he wished to stay? <br>Has no one, in the forests of the evening, <br>Heard the sad horn of Senlin slowly blown? <br>For somewhere, in the worlds-in-worlds about us, <br>He changes still, unfriended and alone. <br>Is he the star on which we walk at daybreak, <br>The light that blinds our eyes? <br>'Senlin!' we cry. 'Senlin!' again . . . no answer: <br>Only the soulless brilliance of blue skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet we would say, this was no man at all, <br>But a dream we dreamed, and vividly recall; <br>And we are mad to walk in wind and rain <br>Hoping to find, somewhere, that dream again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Conrad+Potter+Aiken">Conrad Potter Aiken</a><div class=q>
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Senlin sat before us and we heard him. 
He smoked his pipe before us and we saw him. 
Was he small, with reddish hair, 
Did he light his pipe with a meditative stare 
And a twinkling flame reflected in blue eyes? 
'I am alone': said Senlin; 'in..."></div>
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