Flinging back my head, I look into the far distance.
Sorrow is a drop of tear, that flew down and was swallowed in by me
I explore into warmness with smoke from the kitchen chimney
My pain, bluer than you, is Buddha’s light
Accumulated over thousands of years
How spacious you are! I’m a cloud your body winnowed
Waiting to be punctured by moonlight, at Mid-autumn,
To discharge in a jet a pond of ripples.
Mom, when I look up into the starry sky,
My superficial face, once again, is shined bright
By emptiness
By YANG-Lin Tr. East Sea Fairy
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