Moments of pleasure in ordinary things

I have no use of quotes and sayings
of gurus dead and bygone,
nor have I use of their brain
less followers’ words of wisdom.

If only you knew how poetry springs
with the play of words in ordinary things,
like the cuckolding of cocks in the morning,
like the croaking of frogs sitting by the pond,

like the wild wolf wailing at the moon,
like your pet dogs serenading the trains,
or the fragrance of white jasmine in the evening,
or the taste of red cherries in the spring

you will see beauty in everything.
No need for sealed ancient wisdom
to seal off your brain for nothing.
But the moments of pleasure in ordinary things.

Inspired on reading Anna Akhmatova’s poem:
I have no use for odic legions.