Fool for Tao

Some months ago, I was reading the 20th verse of The Tao -The Wanderer, and couldn't help but think of the Fool. So I went ahead and wrote my own version of Tao #20 with the Fool in mind. In honour of April - the Month of the Fool - here is my translation. It's by no means scholarly so please don't be upset if you think I've got it all wrong. I'm nothing more than a fool myself.

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The Wanderer

Forget learning and troubles disappear. Yes and no are the same. Or at least the arguments are endless between the two.

Death is fearsome but asking unanswerable questions forever is worse.

Most of us seem so pleased, as if we’ve made it to the party at the top of the hill, A-list in spring.  I don’t care, as if bored by it all, what I want hasn’t been determined, still unborn.  An infant about to smile, I look unsure.  I have no home. I don’t yet know what home means. 

Everyone seems to have enough and more.  I have nothing and there was never anything to lose.  I am a fool, my mind not resting any one place.

Others are clear, their minds at work, full, bright, knowing how to decide.  Mine alone is empty chaos, whole dull blackness.  Carried aimless at sea drifting everywhere, no harbour where there is no land.  No place is mine, forever moving on.  Your territory is safe, from me.

I am different.  The universe is my mother.