In Grateful Thanks to Bodhisattva Mahasattva
Jade Alexandria Biringer
April 27, 1993 – July 13, 1993
On Another's Sorrow
Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?
Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
And can he who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird's grief & care, Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest, Pouring pity in their breast; And not sit the cradle near, Weeping tear on infant's tear;
And not sit both night & day, Wiping all our tears away? O, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
He doth give his joy to all; He becomes an infant small; He becomes a man of woe; He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh And thy maker is not by; Think not thou canst weep a tear And thy maker is not near.
O! he gives to us his joy That our grief he may destroy; Till our grief is fled & gone He doth sit by us and moan.
Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?
Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
And can he who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird's grief & care, Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest, Pouring pity in their breast; And not sit the cradle near, Weeping tear on infant's tear;
And not sit both night & day, Wiping all our tears away? O, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
He doth give his joy to all; He becomes an infant small; He becomes a man of woe; He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh And thy maker is not by; Think not thou canst weep a tear And thy maker is not near.
O! he gives to us his joy That our grief he may destroy; Till our grief is fled & gone He doth sit by us and moan.
3 comments:
Deep bows.
Dear Uku,
Thank you.
Deep Bows.
Peace,
Ted
Words cannot express...
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