I’d want at least a pair of clean shirts,
As usual, with seven buttons, to start
And finish my week safe and sound;
But if can have only one shirt, I shall
Not mind, either. Unlike anyone else
I want also a good show, and I would
Give myself up to the full enjoyment.
But if I must go without that, I shall
Not be too sorry. I’d want some lofty
And shady trees in my surroundings,
But if I cannot have them, a sapling
In my yard will give me the same fun.
I’d want many kids and a housewife
Who personally prepares delicacies,
And if I’m wealthy, then a good cook,
And a pretty housemaid in gauzy slip
To tend the incense while I’m writing
Or painting in my chamber. I’d want
Some intimate friends and a woman
Who understands, ideally to be found
In the person of my spouse; if not, then
Maybe in one of the sing-opera divas.
If I’m not born with ‘voluptuous luck,’
Then I shall not be much worry, either.
I’d want a filled belly—rice and pickles
Are not so costly in my region; I’d want
A jug of good wine, but the moonshine
Is often home-brewed, or I can pay only
A limited cash for a bottle at a wineshop.
I’d want leisure, and leisure I can have,
And I’m as happy as a bird if I have met
An old monk in a bamboo-covered grove
To talk to him of Dharma and enjoyed
Another of life's leisurely half-days. . .
I’d want a secluded hut, if I can’t have
An entire pleasure garden sited amidst
Deep mountains with the coolest spring
Running past my hut, or in a lower vale
Where before sunset I can saunter along
The river bank and observe cormorants
Catching fish for their master-fisherman.
But if I can’t have that luck and must live
In the dusty city, I’ll not be sorry, either.
For I’d have, in any case, a cage bird and
A few potted herbs and the moon’s disk
Shined in my tub, for I can always have
The sole lamp of my utter enlightenment—
A strong resolve to get the best out of life,
A desire to enjoy what I’ve got at hand
And no repentance if I fail in the end
To start over from scratch. . . So be it.
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Ron