On the low wall of my garden
There stands a tiny shrine,
Half-hidden
In the shadow of the trees.
When I am weary of this sad world,
And of man’s turmoil and strife,
I steal off to my shrine among the trees.
There, with silent prayer and incense,
I find my soul again –
And thank Heaven
For my shrine among the trees.
In The Hundred Names
Trans. Henry H. Hart