lundi 9 février 2009


It was late when I entered the cold water.
Some yellow glows attracted me there.
It was full night over my insomnia
When silently, I got frozen by the bit of the liquid.
Few days ago, my Zen master asked me this test.

“The world you prepare yourself to enter
is burning, burning of an iced fire.
If you want to go there,
you must bear the ultimate cold,
You must overcome the flame,
And resist to all bitterness…
Coz you gonna suffer there.
More than thousand hells,
More than thousand deaths,
More than to be neglected.
Son, you will die there.
And you must be ready for that.”

So spoke to me my master.
And I trembled for that.
My sleep fled me as if there was no more days,
But only one endless night.
Was I going to bleed deadly
From the bit of the ice crystal dragon?

“Yes, son. You gonna bleed.
All your oceans, all your rivers.
You gonna pour out from life to chasm.
Yes, son, You gonna cry all joy
By each pore of your soul.
Son, this is only the samurai’s way.
A samurai already knows he is going to die
When he leaves home’s warmth.”

And so I went.


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