Maxims 1

The ampalaya, no matter how bitter, Is sweet to those who like it. The hardest person to awaken Is a lover feigning sleep. The basketball held underwater Wants violently to come up. Easily split asunder is that Which never was united. The water is cold at first, for it Takes time to heat the pipe. The kids run away from home, only to Sit through endless classes. You take the battery out of a watch, You turn it into a liar. You strip the sheet off a drinking straw And stab it into the scalp. The basketball held underwater Wants violently to come up. The one who reads the sutra is not The one who knows what is said. My life is as unchanging As the surface of the moon. And I give you the same reason: I have no atmosphere. El hacha ya está puesta A la raíz de los árboles, Y todo árbol que no produzca buen fruto Is hewn down and cast into the fire. You take a rose by the throat. How much blood comes out your hand Is how recklessly you took hold, Is how shamelessly. Who wants to be great or holy Has no lust for peace. For peace is a thread only spools on a thing That’s good for nothing else.