Saturday, February 23, 2008

waka of budouadana: threes

Cargo of three sprouts,
His path through massive mountains,
He views from high cliffs
The wide green valley below,
Where he shall plant his future.
Raise we three our cups
In joyful exuberance
To home and friends,
Great adventures, old and new,
The warmth of community.
As if three cruel swords
Had thrust into a beating heart,
Betrayal kills trust,
Whether of friend or lover,
Brother, father, or country.
Risking his three coins
The wise youth made thoughtful plans,
Hired a team of two,
Drilled until they could not fail,
Earned his daily bread for life.
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