Professors of Dharma

Who speaks my voice?
Who thinks my thoughts?
Who dreams my dreams?

My friend who asks himself those questions
thinks himself close to salvation,
thinks himself above temptations,
thinks himself his own nation.

The Good Doctrine swells their crania,
they praise the Nirvana in their stools.

Those ardent professors of Dharma—
too wise for the world’s drama,
not wise enough to love like a fool—
a barren of mules.