As if chiseled, a fruit-laden branch <br />Hangs in my garden, asleep - so low... <br />The trees sleep - and dream? - in moonlight; <br />And the mystery of their life is near, near... <br /> <br />Even if we cannot grasp it, <br />The mute language is still intelligible: <br />They use our beauty to express <br />How we are one amidst rays and spots of light. <br /> <br />And the tremor of any life's creation <br />Reveals itself in a lovely form; <br />And the variance of different things is sweetened <br />By shared beauty. Multiply it! <br /> <br />And the world will be like this unstirring garden, <br />Where everything heeds a harmonious silence: <br />Both stem and flower yield to the dear Earth; <br />Both flower and stem listen to the Moon.<br /><br />Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/clothed-in-beauty/
