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old willow Feb 9
The mountain is hard to climb, river shifted,
I have no trickle or mote of strength.
I see that now the window's bright again.
Besides the road, cloudy mist feed into blossom,
Each petal further adding one more to spring.
My sigh mourn in snow dust,
Yearning, my writing continue to spread.
old willow Feb 9
In life, I cross with red dust.
We are blades of grass, amidst war, we sway.
Visited by lustful desire, we succumb to its whisper.
Should I fight my desire?
Visited by sad news, we succumb to despair.
Should I fight my desire?
Mortal dust continue to drift, landing on my frugal body.
In the end, let them all come, greet them as sire.
Succumb to lust, to grief, to joy, to pleasure,
But let my heart abide - pay red dust no heed.
old willow Feb 8
I dwell in this vast world.
Seeing loved one's passing through life.
Believe that my heart can soar above heaven.
Believed that my heart transcend heaven,
Yanking the soul of my people away,
Place them back on earth.
If my heart still lingers on earth,
How could I soar nine heavens above?
If my heart is above heaven,
Why would my heart desire mortal dust below?
Dust to dust, mortal dies,
let begone bygone, cleaning the dust off myself.
old willow Feb 7
I fear many things.
Fear that one day, my loved one die.
Fear that one day, I leave them behind.
Fear that they one day leave.
When lonely, I fear none.
Karma long severe, I put no heed to life.
Walking in life once again,
they came back to me.
Once in my hand,
I fear that I will lose it.
old willow Feb 7
Living carefree, unrestrained,
That is my heart dao.
To live so freely, transcend reincarnation,
one must overcome life.
Whom to where my eyes stride,
See trillions upon trillions of mortal heart dao.
The road is endless, so is my heart.
If the heaven wield, then earth pave.
If the world shielded, then my heart pierce.
The ocean is many, the many is one.
The dao is many, the many is one.
The heart is many, many is one,
Greed, Love, Hatred, Jealously,
desires stem from the heart.
The myriad things are dao,
ultimately the many whence one.
old willow Feb 5
Sitting at my desk, is a cup of coffee.
A sip to burn my tongue,
I feel at ease with warmth.
No longer do I ponder of truth
nor hearing any owl hoot,
the street that is an isle
is now not so wild.
old willow Jan 14
In our lifespan, by the time we truly understand,
Understand what we are living for,
We are already old.
‘Spring’ represents ‘Youth’,
As the four season change,
Time flows quickly as well.
Our memories are faint like a river of stars,
My longing is as clear as the moon in the sky.
Autumn has knocked my door once again,
I continue to weave green thread,
Forming a spiral.
Engraved there my memories,
Autumn has taken it elsewhere.
Where I stood has turn pale,
‘Winter’ represents ‘Wither’.
I began to plant last year flower,
Outsider are crossed-eye,
While I alone tend to the flower til summer.
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