You can't look with full attention
and at the same time judge.
This is the fabled wisdom of age.

A selfish, gawky fledgling took pride 
in his power of attention, keen
to be passionately engaged.

An egoist psychopath or novitaite bullock
of half-formed mind liked to judge,
considered it a matter of pride.

I chuckle now at pride, become bald.
Take infantile chalk lines for real borders?
Salute some old flag? Don't be silly.

The blossoms that never
never for a second forget their mission,
in falling as a matter of course
yet surprise being still more beautiful.
Revered in Kyoto, rousing poetry
in the garden of England,
from the longest path you turn around
and find them clearer than ever.