There's a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn't change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can't get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old. Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding. You don't ever let go of the thread.
My dreams are dreams of the pond That lives not only to mirror the sky But to let the surrounding willows and ferns Refresh and cleanse me.
Through tree roots I make my way towards the leaves' veins Their dying brings me no sorrow For I've expressed myself, I've won life.
My happiness is the sun's happiness In a brief span of time I'll leave behind enduring works That will strike gold sparks In children's eyes, and In a sprouting seedling I'll sing a jeweled green song. I am artless yet bountiful I'm unfathomable.
My pain is the pain of seasonal birds Only spring understands such passion. Endure all hardships and failures, Always fly toward a future of warmth and light. Ah, the bleeding wings Will write a line of supple verse To enter deep within all souls, Deep into all times.