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BRUCE LEE POEMS

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Once More I Hold You
In My Arms

Once more I hold you in my arms;
And once more I lost myself in
A paradise of my own.

Right now you and I are in
A golden boat drifting freely on a sunny sea
Far, far away from the human world.
I am happy as the waves dancing around us.

Too much analysis kills spontaneity,
As too much light dazzles my eyes.
Too much truth astonishes me.
Despite all obstacles,
Love still exists between us.

It is useless to try to stir the dirt
Out of the muddy water,
As it will be come murkier.
But leave it alone,
And if it should be cleared;
It will become clear by itself.

Poems by Bruce Lee

Down the Western Hill

Down the Western hill the bright sun sinks
Making yellow gold of all the air.

On a lonely hilltop, away from the distant mist,
A golden dragon stands staring, with
Dreams that fade and die in the bright West.


The Dying Sun

The dying sun lies sadly in the far horizon.
The autumn wind blows mercilessly;
The yellow leaves fall.
From the mountain peak,
Two streams parted unwillingly,

One to the West, one to the East.
The sun will rise again in the morning.
The leaves will be green again in spring.
But must we be like the mountain stream,
Never to meet again?
The Dying Sun


Love Is Like A Friendship
Caught On Fire

Love is like a friendship caught on fire.
In the beginning a flame,
Very pretty, often hot and fierce
But still and only light and flickering.

As love grows older, our hearts mature
And our love becomes as coals,
Deep-burning and unquenchable.


Things I See

Alone I wander in silence
And in the sky the two escaped parakeets
Fall from fear of fishermen.

The two fish swim;
One white, one gold.
From the picket fence
A pink rose reaches out to the sun.
Among the flowers, two butterflies fly.
They might know where they want to go,
But they do not know how to get there.


The Falling Leaf

The wind is in high frolic with the rain.
Outside the garden a little yellow leaf
Clinging desparately to its mother branch

I pick up the leaf
And put it in the book,
Giving it a home.


Though The Night Was Made
For Loving

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon.

And so the time flies hopefully
Although she's far away.

Other thoughts may come and go,
But the thought of you,
Remains deeply in my heart.


The Silent Flute

("Cord's closing speech," quoted from Bruce Lee's
copy of the script of The Silent Flute, written by
Bruce Lee - October 19, 1970)

I wish neither to possess,
Nor to be possessed.
I no longer covet paradise,
More important, I no longer fear hell.

The medicine for my suffering
I had within me from the very beginning,
But I did not take it.
My ailment came from within myself,
But I did not observe it
Until this moment.

Now I see that I will never find the light
Unless, like the candle, I am my own fuel,
Consuming myself.


Parting

An untitled poem by Madame Kuan,
that was translated by Bruce Lee.

Who knows when meeting shall ever be.
It might be for years or
It might be forever.

Let us then take a lump of clay,
Wet it, pat it,
And make an image of you
And an image of me.
Then smash them, crash them,
And, with a little water,
Knead them together.

And out of the clay we'll remake
An image of you, and an image of me.
Thus in my clay, there's a little of you,
And in your clay, there's a little of me.
And nothing will ever set us apart.

Living, we'll be forever in each other's heart,
And dead, we'll be buried together.

Rain

Rain,
Black clouds,
Fallen blossoms and pale moon,
The hurried flight of birds
The arrival of lonely autumn
The time for us to part.

The clouds above are floating across the sky
Swiftly, swiftly passing,
Or blending together.

Much has been said, yet we have not
Come to the end of our feelings.
Long must be this parting, and
Remember, remember that all
My thoughts have always been of you.

The good time will probably never come back again.
In a moment---our parting will be over.
When days are short and dull nights long

Read this poem I leave you, read it
When the silence of the world possesses you,
Or when you are fretted with disquiet.
Long must be this parting, and
Remember, remember that all
My thoughts have always been of you.


Once More I Hold You
In My Arms

Once more I hold you in my arms;
And once more I lost myself in
A paradise of my own.

Right now you and I are in
A golden boat drifting freely on a sunny sea
Far, far away from the human world.
I am happy as the waves dancing around us.

Too much analysis kills spontaneity,
As too much light dazzles my eyes.
Too much truth astonishes me.
Despite all obstacles,
Love still exists between us.

It is useless to try to stir the dirt
Out of the muddy water,
As it will be come murkier.
But leave it alone,
And if it should be cleared;
It will become clear by itself.


The Humming Bird

Rays spring from the East like purple arrows.
The humming bird begins his flight.
Happily he flies through the purple sky,
Looking for the lovely pink rose.

On the mountain peak,
Away from the human world,
He finds the pink rose waiting.
Upon the mountain peak he hovers
In silence above the rose and waits
As dawn from purple grows to gold.

The sun moves on to afternoon,
The time to part.
Unwillingly, the humming bird rises above,
Hovers, circles the rose three times,
Then flies to his nest,
Far, far to the East.

Through my window I have watched
The crimson close of day
Followed by the silver calmness of the night.

In my lonely room no sound stirs.
Who knows that, all evening in bed
I am not sick,
And not even asleep?

A second is an hour,
An hour becomes a night as I lie staring,
Waiting for the sun to rise.
Oh, that I could be a humming bird,
And fly so swiftly to your side.

In dream the most wonderful thing happens
for I am no more a humming bird
and she, no more a pink rose
There is no more noon or night
But always morning.
How I wish that one day
the dream too, is no more a dream.


All Streams
Flowing East or West

All streams flowing East or West
Must flow into the sea;
The current from the middleland
Sweeps by the lonely island.

Gold and silver pebbles mingle,
Seaweed and kelp interlace.
Streams born from mountain snows
Grow to swelling wave.

The full-blown arc of quew moves
In race against the grey
Caps of white like beats of heart
Are pulled within the wave.

The wave from mountain peaks becomes
Hammer to sculpture rocks,
To leave chiseled shapes and polished surfaces.
From boulder to rock to sand.
And with the final thrust the sun
Throws wave upon the shore
The jellyfish in weariness
Nestles in a pool.


Walking Along The Bank
Of Lake Washington

The breeze on the bank
Already blows cool and mild;
The distant merging of lake and sky
Is but a red trace of sunset.

The deep silence of the lake,
Cuts of all tumult from me.
Along the lonely bank
I move with slow footsteps:

Alone the disturbed frogs scurry off.
Here and there are houses,
Cool beads of light spring out from them.

A dazzling moon
Snines down from the lonely depths of the sky.
In the moonlight slowly I move to a gung fu form.
Body and soul are fused into one.


Boating on Lake Washington

I live in memory of a dream
Which has come and gone;
In solitude I sit on my boat
As it glides freely down the tranquil lake.

Across the blue sky, the swallows fly in couples;
On the still water, the Mandarin ducks swim, side by side.
Leaning on the oar I gaze at the water far away.
The sky far away, the loved one far away.

The sun goes down in flame on the far horizon,
And soon the sunset is rushing ti its height through
Every possible phase of violence and splendor.
The setting of the sun is supposedly a word of peace,
But an evening like the soft and invisible
Bonds of affection only adds distress to my heart.

Over the lake the round moon rises bright
And floods the horizon with her silver light.
I look into the water; it is as clear as the night.

When the clouds float past the moon,
I see them floating in the lake,
And I feel as though I were rowing in the sky.
Suddenly I thought of you---mirrored in my heart.

The lake sleeps in peace,
Not the faintest murmur of waves can be heard.
Lying back on the boat,
I try to conjure up the land of dream where I may seek for you.
But, alas, no dreams come.
Only a moving point of fire in the dark,
The distant light of a passing boat.


Our Togetherness
Is Like A Sweet Dream

Our togetherness is like a sweet dream
Too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose awakening should have been in Paradise.

And now like a dream you will vanish.
And only in dream can we chance to meet again.
That we may live our very life again,
As July, August and September.

Dear, do come to me in dreams, that
We may live our very life again
In the land of green.
Much has been said,
Yet I have not come to the end of my feelings.
Driven from my head, you enter my heart.
Remember that my thoughts have always been of you.

When, oh! When shall we walk again.
Hand held in hand
You and I?


The Surroundings
Utter No Sound

The surroundings utter no sound.
Time suddenly ceases.
Gently you fall into my arms.

The years of a lifetime never reach a hundred,
Yet they contain a thousand years' sorrow.
When days are short and the dull night long,
Why not take a walk alone in the moonlight?

The bright moon, again, how white it shines,
Shines down on my lonely bed.
For a long time I have stayed in bed with my thoughts,
Racked by sorrow I toss and cannot sleep.
Picking up my clothes, I wander up and down.
The stars and planets are all grown dim in the sky,
Facing the moon, I stand hesitating, alone.
To whom can I tell my sad thought?

The good time will probably never come back again.
In a moment, our parting will be over.
Anxiously, I stopped the car by the roadside,
Hesitating, we hold hands.

The clouds above are floating across the sky,
Swiftly, swiftly passing, or blending together.
Petals fall quietly, birds call in the hills.
From now onwards, long must be our parting,
So let us stop once more for a while.

Like mountain streams, we part and meet again.
Everything is still,
Except the occasional lonely bark of a dog.


Night Rain

I sit through the long night
In the high tower,
And listen to the autumn rain
Outside my window.

There is no sound of human life,
Save now and then
A belated traveler hastening by.

Through the dark heaven,
A wild goose wings his lonely flight.
In the chill gloom
A cricket calls
The water drips mournfully
From the t'ung trees;
And the blossoms
Flutter sadly
To the rain-soaked earth.

Sadness broods
Over the world.
I fear to walk in my garden,
Lest I see
A pair of butterflies
Disporting in the sun
Among the flowers.


For A Moment

For a moment
The surrounding utters no sound.
Time ceases.
The paradise of dreams come true.


It Is Spring

It is spring,
And somewhere in the night
A lute is playing.
It sings of youth and joy,
And love.

But what can it mean to me,
When my heart is with you
A thousand li away?


The Frost

Young man,
Seize every minute
Of your time.

Thedays fly by;
Ere long you too
Will grow old.

If you believe me not,
See there, in the courtyard,
How the frost
Glitters white and cold and cruel
On the grass that once was green.

Do you not see
That you and I
Are as the branches
Of one tree?

With your rejoicing,
Comes my laughter;
With your sadness
Start my tears.

Love,
Could life be otherwise
With you and me?



Since You Left

The sun sets low in the west;
The farewell song is over;
We are separating.

Leaning on the sandalwood oar I gaze at the water,
Far away, the sky.
Far away, the loved one, far away.

Since you left, I know not whether you are far or near,
I only know the colors of nature have paled
And my heart is pent up with infinite yearnings.

Leaning upon the single pillow,
I try to conjure up the Land of Dreams where I may seek for you.
Alas! No dreams come, only the dim lamplight fuses with the shadows.

My boat glides down the tranquil river,
Beyond the orchard which borders the bank.

I leave you my poems.
Read them.
When the silence of the world possesses you,
Or when you are fretted with disquiet.

In order to go rowing in our boat we have waited
For the setting of the sun.
A slight breeze ripples the blue surface
And stirs the water lilies.

Along the banks,
Where the cherry blossoms fall like rain,
We watch a gimpse of strolling lovers.

Fierce desire pulls me.
I yearn to tell them of passion.
Alas, my boat floats away
At the mercy of the moving current.
My heart looks back in sadness.

Two swallows, and two swallows,
Always the swallows fly in couples.
When they see a tower of jade
Or a lacquered Pavilion,

One never perches there without the other.
When they find a balustrade of marble
Or a gilded window,
They never separate.

Rapidly my boat is gliding down the river,
Under a cloud-strewn sky.
I look into the water;
It is clear as the night.
When the clouds float past the moon,
I see them floating in the river,
And I feel as though I were rowing in the sky.
I think of my beloved
Mirrored so in my heart.


Though The Night Was Made
For Loving

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon.

And so the time flies hopefully
Although she's far away.

Other thoughts may come and go,
But the thought of you,
Remains deeply in my heart.


The Silent Flute

("Cord's closing speech," quoted from Bruce Lee's
copy of the script of The Silent Flute, written by
Bruce Lee - October 19, 1970)

I wish neither to possess,
Nor to be possessed.
I no longer covet paradise,
More important, I no longer fear hell.

The medicine for my suffering
I had within me from the very beginning,
But I did not take it.
My ailment came from within myself,
But I did not observe it
Until this moment.

Now I see that I will never find the light
Unless, like the candle, I am my own fuel,
Consuming myself.


Parting

An untitled poem by Madame Kuan,
that was translated by Bruce Lee.

Who knows when meeting shall ever be.
It might be for years or
It might be forever.

Let us then take a lump of clay,
Wet it, pat it,
And make an image of you
And an image of me.
Then smash them, crash them,
And, with a little water,
Knead them together.

And out of the clay we'll remake
An image of you, and an image of me.
Thus in my clay, there's a little of you,
And in your clay, there's a little of me.
And nothing will ever set us apart.

Living, we'll be forever in each other's heart,
And dead, we'll be buried together.

The Falling Leaf

The wind is in high frolic with the rain.
Outside the garden a little yellow leaf
Clinging desparately to its mother branch

I pick up the leaf
And put it in the book,
Giving it a home.

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