THE TAME BIRD AND THE FREE BIRDRabindranath Tagore

The tame bird was in a cage; the free bird was in the forest.

They met when the time came; it was a decree of fate.

The free bird cries. “Oh my love, let us fly to the woods.”

The caged bird whispers “Come here, let us both settle in a cage.”

Says the free bird, “Among the bars, where is the room to spread one’s wings?”

“Alas,” cries the caged bird, “I should not know where to sit perched in the skies.”

The free bird cries, “My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.”

The caged bird says, “Sit by my side; I’ll teach you the speech I learned.”

The forest bird cries, “No, ah no! Songs can never be taught.”

The caged bird says, “Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.”

Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.

Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.

They flutter their wings in yearning and sing, “Come close, my love!”

The caged bird whispers, “Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.

LION MAKERSParable from Panchatranta

In a certain town, there were four Brahmans who lived in friendship. Three of them had reached the far shore of scholarship but lacked sense. The other found scholarship distasteful; he had nothing but sense.

One day they met for consultation. “What is the use of attainments,” they said, “if one does not travel, win the favor of kings and acquire money? Whatever we do, let us all travel.”

But when they had gone a little way, the eldest of them said, “One of us, the fourth, is a dullard having nothing but sense. Now, nobody gains the favorable attention of kings by sense without scholarship. Therefore, we will not share our earnings with him. Let him turn back and go home.”

Then the second said, “My intelligent friend, you lack scholarship. Please go home.” But the third said, “No, no. This is no way to behave. For we have played together since we were little boys. Come along, my noble friend. You shall have a share of the money we will earn.”

With this agreement, they continued their journey, and in a forest, found the bones of a dead lion. Thereupon, one of them said, “A good opportunity to test the ripeness of our scholarship. Here lies some kind of creature, dead. Let us bring it to life by means of our scholarship we have honestly won.”

Then the first said, “I know how to assemble skeleton.” The second said, “I can supply skin, flesh and blood.” The third is intent of giving the breath of life, the man of sense advised against it, remarking, “This is a lion. If you bring it to life, he will kill everyone of us.”

“You simpleton!” said the other. “it is not I who will reduce scholarship to a nullify.” In that case,” came the reply, “wait a moment while I climb this convenient tree.”

As the man of sense hurriedly clamber the tree, the third Brahman breathed onto the lion. It came to life and in no time devoured the three.

And that is what I say: Scholarship is less than sense. Therefore, seek intelligence; senseless scholars in their pride made a lion, then they died.

GITANJALI(Song Offerings)Rabindranath Tagore

1
The child who is decked with prince’s robes and who has jeweled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play, his dress hampers him at every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keeps one shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it robs me of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life.

2
Where the mind is without fear and head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depths of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection.
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of death habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action-
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

3
On that day when death will knock at thy door
What wilt thou offer to him?
Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of my life – I will never let him go with empty hands.
All that vintage of all my autumn days and summer nights, all the earnings and gleanings of my busy life will I place before him at the close of my days when death will knock at my door.

SALUTATION TO THE DAWNKalidasa

Look to this day!
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence:
The bliss of growth
The glory of action
The splendor of beauty.
For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision,
But today well lived makes
Every yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow is a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day!
Such is the salutation to the dawn.

THE SPIDER’S THREADAkutagawa Ryunosuke

It so happens that one day the Lord Buddha is strolling alone on the shore of the lotus pond in Paradise. All the lotus blossoms blooming in the pond are globes of the whitest white and from the golden stamen in the center of each an indescribably pleasant fragrance issues forth abidingly over the adjacent area. Day is just dawning in Paradise.

In due course, the Lord Buddha pauses at the edge of the pond and beholds an unexpected sight between the lotus petals veiling the water's surface. Since the depths of Hell lay directly below the lotus pond on Paradise, the scenery of Sanzu-no-kawa and Hari-no-yama can be clearly seen through the crystal-clear water just as if looking through a stereopticon.

Then, the single figure of a man, Kandata by name, squirming there in the depths of Hell along with other sinners, comes into the Lord Buddha's gaze. This man Kandata is a murderer, an arsonist, and a master thief with numerous robberies to his credit. Yet, the Lord Buddha recalls that he had performed a single good deed. That is to say, once when Kandata was traveling through the middle of a dense forest he came upon a spider crawling along the roadside. Thereupon, he immediately raised his foot and was about to trample it to death. But, he suddenly reconsidered, saying, "Nay, nay, small though this spider be, there is no doubt that it too is a living being. Somehow or other it seems a shame to take its life for no reason." In the end he spared the spider rather than killing it.

While observing the situation in Hell, the Lord Buddha remembers that this Kandata had spared the spider. And he decides that in return for having done just that one good deed he would, if he could, try to rescue this man from Hell. Luckily, he sees nearby a spider of Paradise spinning a beautiful silver web on a jade colored lotus petal. The Lord Buddha takes the spider's thread gently into his hand and lowers it between the pure white lotus blossoms straight into the distant depths of Hell.

This is Chi-no-ike in the depths of Hell and along with other sinners Kandata is floating up to the surface and sinking back down over and over. No matter what direction one looks it is completely dark. And when one notices out there in that darkness the glow from the needles of the dreaded Hari-no-yama floating up vaguely into view, the feeling of helplessness is beyond description. Moreover, the surroundings are perfectly still, like the inside of a tomb. If a sound is to be heard, it is merely the faint sigh of some sinner. The sighs are faint because anyone who has fallen to this level of Hell is already so exhausted by the tortures of the other Hells that he or she no longer has even enough strength to cry out. Therefore, as one might expect, the master thief Kandata himself is unable to do anything but writhe, exactly like a frog caught in the throes of death, as he chokes on the blood of Chi-no-ike.

One day, however, something happens. Kandata happens to raise his head and spies in the sky above Chi-no-ike a silvery spider's thread, a thin line shimmering in the silent darkness, gently descending toward him from the distant, distant firmament as though it were afraid to be seen by the eyes of men. Upon seeing it Kandata involuntarily claps his hands for joy. If he were to cling to this thread and climb it to its end, he would surely be able to escape from Hell. No, if all went well, he would even be able to enter Paradise. And were this to come to pass, he would never ever be driven up Hari-no-yama again, nor would he ever have to sink again in Chi-no-ike.

Having thought thusly, Kandata quickly takes firm hold of that spider's thread with both hands and using all his might begins climbing up and up hand-over-hand. From long ago Kandata has been completely used to doing this sort of thing since he is a former master thief.

But because the distance between Hell and Paradise is some tens of thousands of ri, try though he might, he is not able to ascend to the top easily. After climbing for a while, even Kandata finally tires; he is unable to continue for even one more pull on the thread. Having no other choice, he intends first to take a short rest. While hanging onto the thread he looks down on the distance below.

He sees that thanks to the efforts he spent climbing, Chi-no-ike, where he had just recently been, is now already hidden at the bottom of the darkness. He also sees that the faint glow of the terrifying Hari-no-yama is below him. If he were to continue at this pace, the escape from Hell just might not be as difficult as he had expected. Wrapping his hand around the spider's thread, Kandata laughs in a voice unused during his years in Hell, "I'm saved! I'm saved at last!" Then he suddenly notices that below him on the spider's thread, just like a line of ants, a countless number of sinners are following him, climbing up and up for all they are worth. When Kandata sees this, he momentarily freezes from shock and fear, his mouth agape and his eyes rolling in his head like an idiot. How could it be that this slender spider's thread, seemingly strained even under the weight of just him alone, is able to support the weight of that many? By some chance were the thread to break, he, the egotistical Kandata who at great pains had climbed this far, and everyone else would plummet headlong back into Hell. For that to happen would be a disaster. But, even as he says this, sinners, not by the hundreds, nor even by the thousands, but in swarms, continue to crawl up from the bottom of the pitch dark Chi-no-ike and climb up the thin luminous spider's thread in single file. If he doesn't do something right away, the thread will break in two at the center and he will surely fall.

At this point, Kandata yells in a loud voice, "Hey you sinners. This spider's thread is mine. Who the hell asked you to climb it? Get down! Get off it!" Just as he screams at the other sinners the spider's thread, which till then had had nothing wrong with it, suddenly breaks with a snap right where Kandata is hanging. So, Kandata, too, is doomed. Without even time to cry out he goes flying through the air spinning like a top and in the wink of an eye plunges headfirst into the dark depths of Hell.

Afterwards, only the shortened spider's thread from Paradise dangles there, glittering dimly in a sky void of both moon and stars.
The Lord Buddha stands on the shore of the lotus pond in Paradise having taken in everything from start to finish. When Kandata finally sinks like a rock to the bottom of Chi-no-ike he resumes strolling, his countenance seemingly creased with sadness. Seen through divine eyes, the Lord Buddha thought it wretched that Kandata's compassionless heart led him to attempt to escape by himself and for such a heart falling back into Hell was just punishment.

The lotus blossoms in the lotus pond of Paradise, however, are not concerned in the least about what has happened. Those blossoms of the whitest white wave their cups around the divine feet of the Lord Buddha and from the golden stamen in the center of each an indescribably pleasant fragrance issues forth abidingly over the adjacent area. Noon draws near in Paradise.

HAPPY MIRROR(A Japanese Folk Tale)

Many years ago in Japan, there lived a father, mother and their dear little girl. There was not a happier family in all the islands of Japan.
They took their little daughter to the temple when she was just thirty days old. She wore a long kimono, as all the Japanese babies do. On her first doll festival, her parents gave her a set of dolls. There was no finer set anywhere. Her dolls had long, black hair, silky and smooth, and were clad in gowns of satin and silk.
Her third birthday was a happy day. Her first sash of scarlet and gold was tied around her small waist. When that happened, she was no longer their baby daughter. She was their little girl, fast growing up. By the time she was seven, she was helping her parents in many ways. She could talk and dance and sing, and oh! Her parents loved her dearly.

One day, a messenger brought exciting news. The emperor had sent for the father. He had to go tot Tokyo at once. Tokyo was a long way off and the roads were rough. The father would have to walk every step of the way for he had no horse. There were no railways or even jinrikishas to travel on.
The little girl was glad her father was going to Tokyo. She knew that when he came back, he would tell her many interesting stories. She knew that he would bring her presents, too. The mother was happy because the father had been sent for the emperor. This was a great honor.

At last, all was ready. The father looked very fine as he started out on the long trip. He was going to meet his emperor, so he dresses in fine robes of silk and satin. The little family stood on the porch of the little house to bid him goodbye. “Do not worry. I will come back soon,” said the father. “While I’m away, take care of everything. Keep our little daughter safe.”

“Yes, we shall be alright. But you must take care of yourself. Come back to as soon as you can, said the mother.

The little girl ran to his side. She caught hold of his sleeve to keep a moment. “Father,” she said, “I will be very good while waiting for you to come back.”
Then he was gone. He went quickly down to the little garden and out through the gate. There, they could see him go down the road. He looked smaller as he went farther away. Then all they could see of him was his peaked hat. Soon, that was out of sight, too.

The days seemed very long for the mother and the little girl. Many times each day, they would pray for the good father. They prayed for his safe journey. The days slipped by one and morning, the little girl saw someone coming over the mountains. She ran to tell her mother. Could that be her father?
They both went to the garden gate to watch. As he came nearer, they knew that he was the father. They both ran to meet him, the little girl on one side, the mother on the other side. They were all happy again.

As soon as they went into the house, the little girl ran to untie the father’s straw sandals. The mother lovingly took off his large straw hat. Then they all sat down on the white mat, for the father had bought some presents.
There in a bamboo basket was a beautiful doll and a box full of cakes. “Here,” he said to the little girl, “is a present for you. It is a prize for taking care of Mother and the house while I was away.”

“Thank you, Father dear,” said the little girl. Then she bowed her head to the ground. In a second, she had picked up her lovely new doll and had gone to play with it.

Again, the husband looked into the basket. This time, he brought out a square wooden box. It was tied with gaily-colored ribbon. He handed it to his wife saying, “And this is for you, my dear.”
The wife took the box and opened it carefully. One side had beautifully carved pine trees and storks on it. The other side was bright and shining as smooth as a pool of water. Inside, there was something made of silver. She had never seen so lovely a present. She looked and looked at the pine trees and stork, which seemed almost real. Then she looked closer at the shining side.
Suddenly she cried, “I see someone looking at me in this round thing! She is very lovely.”

Her husband laughed but said nothing. Then the mother’s eyes grew big with wonder. “Why, the lady I see has a dress just like mine!” she said. “She seems to be talking to me.”

“My dear,” her husband answered, “that is your own face that you see. What I have given you is a mirror. All the ladies in Tokyo have them. If you bring a smiling face in the mirror, you will see a smiling face. If you are cross, you will see a cross face in it.”

The wife thanked her husband for the lovely gift. She promised always to bring happy face to the mirror. She then shut it up in the box and put it away.
Often, the mother would take out the box and look inside. Each time, she was surprised. She liked to see her eyes shine. She liked to see how red her lips were. She always brought a smiling face to it, so that she might always see a smiling face. Soon, she grew tired of looking in the box and she put it away. Only once a year did she open it and look at her face. She decided to save the lovely gift for the little girl when she grew up.

The years went by. The little girl grew to be a woman and no longer played with dolls. Instead each day, she helped her mother about the house. How proud her father was of her! He saw that she was growing more like her mother. Her hair was the same; her eyes were the same; her mouth was the same. She was the very image of her mother.
One day, the mother called her daughter and said, “My daughter, I have something to give you. Once each year, you are to look into it.”
She took the square wooden box from the drawer. Carefully, the daughter untied the ribbon. Wondering, she lifted the cover and looked at the mirror.

“Why, Mother!” she cried. “It’s you! You look just as you used to look when I was a little girl.”

“Yes, dear,” the mother answered, “that is the way I looked when I was young. Be sure to smile when you look at me and I will smile back to you.”
From that day on, the good daughter kept a box near her. Once each year, she would open it. Her mother’s words were always true. Always, she saw her mother’s face. Oh, the joyful surprise! It was her mother, more beautiful each time that she looked. She seemed to smile at her daughter and the daughter smiled back at her. The daughter remembered to bring smiles to the little box and smiles always came back to her.

A JAPANESE FOLK SONG FROM AOMORI

When summer comes,
The paddy pools grow warm
The mud lark and the singing frog
Are happy, are happy
Thinking they’re in bath.

When winter comes,
The paddy pools are filmed with ice,
The mud lark and the singing frog
Must think their heaven has stretched
Has stretched and grown above.

When spring comes
There’s water in the paddy pools
The mud lark and the singing frog
Are happy, are happy
Thinking they’re in the sea.

When autumn comes,
The hills and dales turn red
The mud lark and the singing frog
Craning their necks above,
Must think of the hills are on fire.