08/20/2022
A beautiful reminder at the conclusion of Keiko today, as this beautiful cicada joined us.
Poem and reflection:
蝉赋 - Ode to the Cicada
蝉赋 by 曹植 (Cao Zhi, 192 - 232)
The cicada’s nobility is hidden in the darkest shadows;
under the dazzling sunlight of midsummer, it roams the fragrant forest.
Not seeking prestige and having few desires, humming with contentment, alone;
its calls ring out piercing, lingering, like the unwavering hearts of virtuous men.
Benevolent and kind, it does not eat, asking nothing of other creatures;
it perches high above all and looks down, only drinking the freshest dew.
Hidden among dense mulberry leaves and sheltered from the heat, it sings with joy.
But the goldfinch aims to cause harm, and it must beware the mantis’ scythe;
it hopes to fly to a far-off land, yet the venomous spider’s web awaits.
It wishes to land and hide, yet fears the attack of insects in the grass.
To escape all these dangers and avoid capture, it flees to the grand palace;
in the shade of a fruit tree’s luxuriant leaves, it relaxes on a high branch in restful quietude.
Here comes a handsome boy strolling into the garden,
with eyes as sharp as Li Zhu’s, and body more nimble than a monkey’s;
there is no leaf he cannot touch, no branch he does not climb.
Concealed, he steps lightly and moves fast, kneeling to keep out of sight.
Fearing that he may startle his quarry, he keeps his eye fixed upon it;
approaching with a wooden cage slowly, gradually until there is no escape.
It tries to take flight, but succeeds only in tightening its bonds and thus foresees its end:
body handed over to the chef to be roasted over a red-hot charcoal fire.
Autumn frost falls in the night; morning winds whip across the garden.
Sorrowful, grieving over this wretched life, it scrambles up the branch but fails and falls.
Its cries grow hoarse as death approaches; a withered husk is left behind when it passes.
To conclude:
The poets praise the cicada who sings, the sound piercing and vibrant
when the sun is at its brightest, then dying away with the coming of winter.
In purity and rectitude, it is equal to Bo Yi;
even the Emperor and his officials should aspire to such virtue.