The lion that roars when thunder calls from cloud, Does it roar when jackals shriek aloud?
When frogs croak their chorus in the rain, Does the cuckoo ever strain its refrain?
Where barbarians hold forth with crude speech, There silence is the good man's reach.
In blood and flesh and bone and skin, all men are one, But without spring's touch, crow and cuckoo merge as one!
The cuckoo sips sweet mango juice in quiet grace, While frogs gorge on mud and split the heavens' face!
The carp dwells in deep waters, yet moves without sound, The minnow leaps and splashes in shallows all around!
A golden chain around the crow's beak, pearls upon its feet, Diamond-emerald plumes adorning—still no royal swan complete.
Only the gifted know the gift in gifted souls, How can the giftless grasp such noble goals? The cuckoo knows the sweetness spring can bring, Can witless crows fathom such a thing? The elephant alone knows the lion's might, Can mouse battalions glimpse that fearsome sight?