Young man,
Seize every minute
Of your time.
The days fly by;
Ere long you too
Will grow old.
If you believe me not
See there, in the courtyard,
How the frost
Glitters white in the cold and cruel
On the grass that once was green.
Do you not see
That you and I
Are as the branches
Of one tree?
With your rejoicing,
Comes my laughter,
With your sadness
Start my tears.
Love,
Could life be otherwise
With you and me?
Seize every minute
Of your time.
The days fly by;
Ere long you too
Will grow old.
If you believe me not
See there, in the courtyard,
How the frost
Glitters white in the cold and cruel
On the grass that once was green.
Do you not see
That you and I
Are as the branches
Of one tree?
With your rejoicing,
Comes my laughter,
With your sadness
Start my tears.
Love,
Could life be otherwise
With you and me?
IF by Rudyard Kipling (Bruce Lee's favourite poem)
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Boating On Lake Washington written by Bruce Lee
I live in memory of a dream
Which has come and gone;
In solitude I sit on my boat
As it glides freely down the tranquil lake.
Which has come and gone;
In solitude I sit on my boat
As it glides freely down the tranquil lake.
Across the blue sky, the swallows fly in couples;
On the still water, the Mandarin ducks swim, side by side.
Leaning on the oar I gaze at the water far away.
The sky far away, the loved one far away.
On the still water, the Mandarin ducks swim, side by side.
Leaning on the oar I gaze at the water far away.
The sky far away, the loved one far away.
The sun goes down in flame on the far horizon,
And soon the sunset is rushing to its height through
Every possible phase of violence and splendour.
The setting of the sun is supposedly a word of peace,
But an evening like the soft and invisible
Bonds of affection only adds distress to my heart.
And soon the sunset is rushing to its height through
Every possible phase of violence and splendour.
The setting of the sun is supposedly a word of peace,
But an evening like the soft and invisible
Bonds of affection only adds distress to my heart.
Over the lake the round moon rises bright
And floods the horizon with her silver light.
I look into the water; it is as clear as the night.
And floods the horizon with her silver light.
I look into the water; it is as clear as the night.
When the clouds float past the moon,
I see them floating in the lake,
And I feel as though I were rowing in the sky.
Suddenly I thought of you—mirrored in my heart.
I see them floating in the lake,
And I feel as though I were rowing in the sky.
Suddenly I thought of you—mirrored in my heart.
The lake sleeps in peace,
Not the faintest murmur of waves can be heard.
Lying back on the boat,
I try to conjure up the land of dream where I may seek for you.
But, alas, no dreams come.
Only a moving point of fire in the dark,
The distant light of a passing boat.
Not the faintest murmur of waves can be heard.
Lying back on the boat,
I try to conjure up the land of dream where I may seek for you.
But, alas, no dreams come.
Only a moving point of fire in the dark,
The distant light of a passing boat.
More poems written by Bruce Lee can be found via this blog.
