I read about a peony spending its whole day giving fragrance to the wind,
And I thought to myself, I’d like to be a peony.
Then I saw three ducks taking flight and leaving ripples on a lake,
And I wished in my heart, I were a lake.
Then I heard a squirrel chattering from high overhead upon a limb,
And I wondered, what would I say if I were him—
Would I wish I were an acorn?
Or when I looked into the sky, would I long to be a passing cloud?
Might I wish to be the oak I’m perched on,
or to be whisked far beyond the ground?
Imagine spending your whole day giving fragrance to the wind—
And still having a place to call home at night.
I spend my days doing the business of making a living,
Because living like a peony is a riddle I cannot solve.
If I were a lake I would be homeless,
Because a lake has no home.
And if I were a talking squirrel,
I’d be richer than my wildest dreams—
And then I could spend my days giving fragrance to the wind.