the Buddha was the comfort of surrender
weathered so by rain and wind
that his very presence
spoke in silence
this Buddha had not suffered from desire
the moss grew on him like truth
arising from an awakening
of its source
in the absolute stillness of the garden
the cessation of all suffering
found the noble harmony
of the path
the stolid Buddha's serenity guided me
to know that quiet freedom
if only for the moment
in its peace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very good, amazing bravo! !