A Large Seed from the Old Forest

concerning an epigraph to a poem by Meng Chiao from Poems of the Late T’ang (A. C. Graham)

Here, eat this, said the wooden boy winning at chess,

and the traveler did, and felt satisfied,

but when he got home, he was a hundred and three.

The windy clack of gossiping bamboo,

their inner chambers crowded with phantoms–

how can you know who has wasted a life?

Look! Your axe handle is rotten, said the other boy,

who was losing, and it was, but it had served him well

and had not failed to split apart the earth from its guests.

By finding yourself right, you gain confidence.

By being confident, you find yourself right.

You might never have to go home.

From out of a mumble rises the right thing to say,

and it is not the thing I wanted to say.

I don’t believe I shall say it.