It’s not for me, I don’t beat
Around the proverbial bush
In the middle of a magniloquent forest.
The right man in the right place,
I am a recluse who lives
Deep in the jungle where
Trees of knowledge bear fruit.
I seek out and query the so-called
Righteous paths in each and every book
I scour for solutions that might turn
My uncertainties into certainties.
I don’t measure life’s depth
Via a single moment, even in blurred
Dreams, I don’t mix hogwash with reality
I don’t wallow in the mire like you or go in
For poker thrills, I know mind from matter
I am no mediocre penpusher
With a mu’s worth of letters.
I don’t want to be the crocodile in a ladle
I don’t need personal fame, for me, for you,
I hope to see peaceful, serene and contented days,
To avoid the erratum of the past, while I long for
The dhamma, I wish I could entertain you
With doe-pup on my way up to a stupa.
Tin Moe translated by ko ko thett and James Byrne