For whom do you bathe and make yourself beautiful?
The voice of the cuckoo is calling you home.
Countless flowers have fallen, and that voice is not stilled
In the jumbled mountains, in the deep places, its call continues.
As you go In the piles of mountains, in the deep places, its call continues.
* Translated by John Tarrant and Joan Sutherland
On a recent morning I was walking my dog Mu, she was trotting along and looked so beautiful. As usual she walked with such purpose and earnestness that my heart filled with love and the universe was perfect. The cuckoo’s beautiful voice was loud and clear and there was no question as to whom I make make myself beautiful for.
A few days later I was at the Animal Emergency Clinic and Mu was in intensive care, she looked awful and lifeless. I was scrambled and lost, going from moment to moment, I couldn’t hear much of anything. Mu looked up at me and tried to bark, squeaks came out. I didn’t know what she was trying to say – I desperately wanted to understand.
Now, all I know, is what the voice of the cuckoo sounds like when I am lost in my own jumbled mountains, in my dark places.