The mind, sharp but not broad, sticks at every point but does not move.
Never be afraid of the moments--thus sings the voice of the everlasting.
决不要害怕刹那－－永恒之声这样唱着。
Thank the flame for its light, but do not forget the lampholder
standing in the shade with constancy of patience.
The mist, like love, plays upon the heart of the hills and bring out
surprises of beauty.
This longing is for the one who is felt in the dark, but not seen in the day.
The mist is like the earth's desire.
It hides the sun for whom she cries.
The cloud stood humbly in a corner of the sky.
The morning crowned it with splendour.
I cast my own shadow upon my path, because I have a lamp that has not
been lighted.
The hills are like shouts of children who raise their arms, trying to catch stars.
到底了
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