Of translations of the Tao,
it is his I spend time with.
He does his patinage on thin ice.
For me, it suffices. To the wisdom
of the Tao he adds his own
wisdom. He interprets a text
which survives in a language
no one speaks anymore,
and which may have been spoken
more in gestures than in words.
He writes beautifully because
he thinks beautifully. Some poetry
is hygiene.