Tonight, the moon is far,
A beautiful petal, perching behind the mist.
Sitting by the pavilion lake with a wine jar,
I reached for the reflection as my spirit drift.

A thousand year of times,
Southern river has since dried,
Dynasty long gone,
Worldly goods no longer remains,
Only fragmented memories of the ancient.
What was a blink of an eye,
Is a thousand-year below...

A great sage once said,
'A journey of a thousand miles
begins beneath one's feet.'
I say,
'A journey of one foot
begin with one's intention.'

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.

Where my spirit goes, I longed.
Spiritless, my heart wander aimlessly.
In this faraway land, life persist.
Hatred, happiness, sadness are many,
yet the heart is one.
In the end, all stemmed from the heart.
Cold, but also warm,
sadness before happiness,
one is many; many is one.

Sitting ashore, I offer my friend a cup of wine,
I ask what place he is headed to.
To my regret, there is no-one to hear.

What is time in this desolate land…
Sitting by seashore, the world dimmed,
Sky greyed as the sea churned.
The flower once bloomed on mountain sides,
Now long withered, I know not when it blooms again.
Old age, I wait for its arrival.

You ask for where my destination is,
I smile, but not answer,
My heart is at leisure.

A man on his boat,
Just like an immortal.
His melodic aged voice sung,
“Up is heaven, down is earth,
Where the wind blows,
Is where I go.”

I walk through life,
writing countless stories.
Surely of thousands stories,
a dozen would be deaths.
Plucking death from life;
is plucking seed from a fruit.

What is there to gain?
We say life have no reason, purpose, nor excuses.
So what say we live?

Plucking the seeds;
I witness countless threads.
From the bitterness of fate;
to the sadness of departure;
down to the solitary of loneliness.

I fear fighting those who have nothing,
those with nothing find comfort in death.
But... is death truly nothing?
Life is full, but emptied to the eyes of death;
Therefore, I tend to see life as nothing
and death as nothing;
ultimately, seeing through life and death.

Like clouds, like rain, like a dance, like fragments;
silver butterflies are converted breeze of stardust.
palace collapse, shrine ruined, covered in dust and dirt,
My river remain as dusk, valley remain unmoved.
A red string tied around fingertips;
one beginning representing life,
one end representing death;
forming reincarnation.

Taking a stroll through the mountains with my friend,
We saw a peony, its petal glitter in specks of snow,
Buds that were the blossoms of springs.
That day we questioned the flowers,
But the flowers do not speak.
Alas, our questions remained unanswered.

Fragrant earthy scent, the sweet morning dew.
Last night was ephemeral, ethereal, and lonely.
Melodic splash,
‘Oh how it soothes one's heart’.
The scent of the mist left me hazy, like a lost traveler;
My gaze, distant and blurred.

The rain may shatter the silence, but not my loneliness.

A sip of wine, sadness begone…
Absented, contemporary sorrow bygone…
Memories and rain,
What’s the difference?

Forming of the droplet, is life.
Reaching Earth, is death.

Life is like this, a falling raindrop…
Obstacles are the wind,
Exerting influence on the falling droplet;
Few can reach the earth…
Many get lost amidst their journey...

Look further, memories are countless rain drops.

Oh how the splashing of the rain soothes one’s heart.
Yet, Indulging oneself in rain,
It’s hard not to get drench.

Oh how the moment of the past soothes one’s heart.
Yet, Indulging oneself in moment of the past;
It’s hard not to drown.

Below the mountain, a merchant cart approach.
With four wheels, it moves to one city, then returns.
Amidst storms, and rocky path, it carries someone;
resembling a mortal lifetime journey...

People lives, no different from a falling droplets of water,
a fleeting moment.
It’s formed, fall, then finally burst;
Returning to the earth.
Sorrow, bitter, and sweetness, contained in such a small drop...

My hand’s cold, stressed body filled with relic of the past;
Placing down a wine cup in hand, I sighed.
“When will the next storm arrive?”

Down hills, sounds of wagon treading through the harsh road from departure;
it echoes amidst a quiet noon.
Above the warm and mellow sky, speckles of whites flutters, leaving behind gray-silver feathers.
The birds, once again, spreading their wings;
Leaving behind their home and travel east with leisure.
Seeking food and laying eggs for the next generation.

Commoner watches the brittleness of life fading away;
Preparing for winter as the leaves shed gray;
Paving the path for newly sprouted leaves when spring returns.

Chill, gentle mellow, soft blanket of hues embrace the living, and dead.
The children would be sent as errand-boy;
Helping their parents stock up supplies for the cold winter to come.
All year round of hardship, amount to little as they faced the imminent harsh season.

Not long, the street was emptied with none in sight.
On withered willow branches, a birch chirp, signifying that autumn has begun.

Gazing at the empty street, the window shut from the outside.
The quietness of autumn, strangely soothes one’s mind.
Not a voice nor sound was heard, as if heavens has lowered the curtain wide;
Deafening the land.

Living up north, the chill winds easily subdue one’s will.
Looking into a home, a wife was preparing a meal;
The husband would tend the fire, and take over heavy-duty tasks.
Their gaze wavered as they soon yearn for the coming of spring.

Faraway, a crisp, orange willow flew from its branches;
Landing on the ground below.
With a breath, gentle breeze embrace the willow with grace;
Carrying it thousands of miles away.

Facing hardship, the misfortune are bound to perish;
The lucky individuals are to be rewarded.
Such, is the bitterness of life as ones cherish;
For the four seasons are ever-changing.

People are no different from the changing seasons.  
Like a blooming petal in spring;
One instant, a moment to blossom.
Facing cold rain and wind;
They melt like snow in autumn.

So, how could I judge the heart of people?
Even loved ones must die;
Meeting strangers is like stepping on puddles.
It's strange you are now far like the sky.
So I ask, is it you leaving, or am I muddled?

At times, I wish you stayed.
To dwell in old times is like licking empty bottles.
Now night feels no different from day.
Try as I may, memories are like novels.

The sky is long, the road is far, wind and snow blow straight.
Dangling white specks of snow unfolded gracefully,
Yet home is naught when the dust flutters.
Just like a fishing boat in the rain,
Destination is just another
rest-stop.

At times, I wish to be a rock.
When the wind ceases, it ceases.
When the wind moves, it moves.
It stops when it stops,
Move when it moves.
A slight push carries it countless distances.
What is more free than a rock?
That, I do not know.

Be still toward one’s heart, not letting it control one’s body…
Be still toward one’s body, not letting it control one’s mind…
Be still toward one’s mind, not letting it control one’s heart…
Ultimately, all thing began from the heart.
As such, we must live and fashion our way to our heart.
To forgo all things...
Let time fly by, as a long time friend would.
Let life drift over our head, as the bird do.
Let the wind embrace us as we ***** the hill, as nature wield.
So long, so far, the Stillness of all things comes and go.
Life are borrowed, not owned…
When hollowed, we are simply paying back the debt we own.
Heaven cannot move me,
Earth cannot bend me,
as such, my heart is truly still.

Tea leaves ever-reaching,
Between willow and lake,
A reflection of the past.
Grass flake, wind strides,
Rustling my heart, life has passed.
You have come, whom mind to grasp?
Ink is numb, painting never lasts.
Silver blossom flower shed tears;
Are you here?
My painting incomplete, Ink where?
Your meal to eat, life once again repeats.
The gate is neat, Chang’an never closer;
Heaven open like sheets, Earth is not sober.

Blood is thicker than water.
A drop of water can shatter the greatest hardness,
can blood do the same?
With blood as ink,
Water as canvas,
kingdom fell and rises.
Kinship is perpetual;
blood represent ill-omen,
and fortune.

When the river converge, there is the self.
The valley is the heart, water as thoughts.
As such, my thought flow through the valley;
forming a river of myriad dots.
Where the spring arrive, the river follows.
In the end, river return to river, water to ocean;
The ocean is the self.
Therefore, changing the self is changing the heart,
changing the heart is changing the thought,
The mountain is the world, behind river is mountain.

clang. clang.
The metal sung joyfully each strikes.
Passion is a dancing flame.
The greatest passion can churn
the sea.
Yet it can also fade like flickering embers.
A passion, can leave behind lasting debris.

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.

By the window, the lonely petals drifted,
so did my mind.
I dare not say I am virtuous.
Experienced humiliation, I obtain humbleness.
Live plainly, before lavishly.
Life often contradict itself,
look at death, therefore comprehending life.

Dream is a bubble,
easily burst from a light touch.
At time, I forget I am a guest in my dream,
A host and a guest;
In control yet not,
bizarre yet naught,
unexpected yet forgot.
Life too, is a dream,
a very long dream indeed.

The rain embraced earth,
leaving behind morning dews and vigor.
Somewhere along the distant town, I hear an aged song.
Swirl swirl, I once roam the world.
Azure sunset, Tears of spring, The world once my mount.
Mountain thoughts, River heart, Valley self,
My River is dried, ocean emptied,
Simply a Drunken fisherman in the sunset.

We bid each other farewell beside the hill,
Alas, the sun has flees.
Feeling the withered petal from plum blossom trees,
In spring, the grass will return,
But will my friend return?

Fate is a thread,
the breadcrumbs that never fades.
Sometimes, it's best to relaxed,
let that thread guides you.
Only fate knows where the thread ends,
you are simply a visitor guided by its invitation.

Fisherman is earth, his net is life,
Fish is Man, Ocean is heaven.
Sway by the earth, we dwell in life.
Entangle in this life, Earth is now home;
Ocean is just an illusion.
The fish move where the net moves,
The net move where the fisherman goes,
The fisherman move where the ocean drifts,
Man who dwell in life only see his net,
not both the drifting fisherman and ocean.

The heaven is far,
Yet the earth is naught.
Standing at the edge of the world
To witness the heaven and earth;
The earth is an immovable bed,
Yet heaven is a boundless net.
Alas, where my path goes,
Heaven's gaze is there.
Where my foot tread,
Earth is there.
I am simply a fish caught in a net...

The wind passes, tugging at the candlelight.
I dance with no one as an audience,
only petals drifting in the wind.
Sealed all that of the past,
turning it into a beautiful dream.
Now love has exiled me,
I heard someone once said⁠—
Dream is an escape... Is that so?

Sigh. All things part.
Friends, where are they now?
Returning to eastern stream,
My turtle friend has long departed life.
Strolling the street,
My friend had become a craftsman.
Back in the capital,
My friend had become a merchant.
Standing here where it all began,
I can only watch their path split apart.

In eastern hill, the lake is murky,
sky wearing crimson colour flurries.
There're rumors of a mysterious sage
Who could answer many worries.
I find I'm crowded full of parting's feelings,
Alas, he does not wish for healing.

Trouble, good o’ friend;
Have you come to visit me once again?
I passed the streets, walking through paved stones;
Looking through stalls as people dance.
Like dusking eve, blown where life shown;
In solitude, in dismay, I am not at home.
For who have you come for, if not my lone heart?
The clouds downpour, life is like a dart.
People drift along like dripping blood;
I find blood easy to dry, yet a longevity of stain.
Smear myself in cold blood, my attire continues changing.
If only, if that, if then, good o’ friend;
Must you only live by if?

My body is well,
the mind dwells,
yet the heart is swelled.

The world is but a single step,
A hundred step a minute;
People live with miseries.
Heaven is as clear as history;
Therefore, I use heaven as a mirror.
To portrait those that suffer,
Those who worries,
And those who bear so sorrow,
How many can live so carefree?
Your heart are troubled;
Yet my heart says otherwise.
In the end, where you find sorrow;
I find happiness.
Life is all about perspective;
Those who live suffer;
Those who suffer will live;
Life is suffering.

Tonight, someone shed tears,
Only I know,
For our stubbornness has landed us here.
My heart, drenched in distress,
The world seemed colorless.
Fortunately, She is still here.

Beneath a willow tree,
Death ask Life,
“Why is it that they avoid me?”
To that, Life smiled and whispered to his ear.
“Because you are the painful truth.”

Sleeps...
A single step feels like thousand leaps.
The people are near,
yet sounds are not here.
Fear is near,
but people are nowhere here.
Alone, the fear is severe,
with no one here,
how can I cheer?

The time I drift, is when I find peace.
When in love, it's hard to find tranquility.
When in rage, it's difficult to reason.
Tranquility even when in love,
Reason in the midst of rage,
how many can?

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.

I enjoy the tangy of spring,
tasting plum wine as cherry blossom.
Eastern river is dried bamboo shoots,
a sweet yet melodic taste brings me home.
At the end of the river is where my heart lays;
a vast, endless ocean;
sadly, people only see fishes in little Ju lake;
the river behind the lake,
ocean behind river that's hidden.

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.

From your eyes to the tip of my hair,
In a dusk filled with lantern;
There I sit.
Who knows, who seen, who can, who for.
Many times waking up from my dreams,
the world is not what it seems.

Today, I was sick.
The doctor said there was nothing wrong,
yet returning to the pavilion lake,
rains accompany my wakes.
A swelling sensation stuffed my chest,
I can't help but lay down and closed my eyes.

Once a little swain, Time has passed.
Chaos and Order, like petal drifting lake;
An Emperor of the east.
A thought to move millions,
A finger to predestine the people.
At the end, The peak resemble my hometown,
People have move, merchant comes and goes;
A place carved from ancient painting.
Serving the people is my duty,
Earth Beneath, Heaven encompassing;
Jaded life is now willow in winter.

Some say that life cannot be controlled by oneself,
for it is within the grasp of Fate, and Time.
I laughed!

Laugh, because I can’t resist.
Laugh, because I can’t resist..
Laugh, because I can’t resist...

I open window to greet ashen sky,
A shy fellow he is, covered in misty clouds.
Laying in my bed, I douse myself In comfort.
Too comfortable… Watching bamboo spoon falling,
My finger too limped to react,
So I let it thump the floor.

Life has it agenda,
First then second, finally third.
Remind ourselves that memory are faint history;
To let history replay for the future to unfold.
Time weld life into death; so is death to life.
Here I stand, where it all started;
Gazing back, life was once better.
Ultimately, departure is inevitable;
Where else can one go without longing?
Longing are fleeting calling;
Appeared like faint snow, disappeared with one blow.

Life have my heart drenched;
In what, I do not know.
Often I feel lonely; like branches laying on shallow water.
When the water is muddy, it’s difficult to see my heart;
When it pulse, ripples arise.
The moon is my sole partner;
Yet extending my hand — like life, illusionary.
Water paved where we stand,
Like sand, time drips through our grasp.
We as people are no different from common grasses.

The vastness of the universe;
Inconceivable!
A drop of water within the ocean;
Unrecognizable!

Above calm ocean surface;
a drop of water can cause ripples;
For how long does this ripple last?

Above the earth surface;
a mortal brought changes;
For how long does this change last?

Humans, no different from weeds in the mountain fields;
Mountains, no different from stray rocks on earth;
Earth, no different from rolling marbles in the constellation;
Constellation; no different from willows branch in the universe!

Such greatness!
Myriad laws weave Ten Thousands Things within the great universe;
No living can escape the laws;
No dead being can escape the laws;
Nothing can escape the laws!