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.