In the past, one evening I stayed here,
In the Mirror Room on Complete South Mountain.
Lonely candle, an abandoned perch on a ridge,
Chime of stone bells blizzard scattered.
Old trees crack in the cold,
Deep spring water frozen stiff.
Careless and lazy, so much left undone,
I've lost my path to the Way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem