Classic Poem

Lying down by night I hear night's bells,
A night so still the mountains resound with them
A frosty wind blows the cold moon,
Far and deep away it rises in the emptiness
The first notes have been struck,
Then the later notes sweep flashing over
I listen for them as though I could see them
Try to pinpoint them — no fixed form
Now truly I understand that ultimately we stand at the edge of Nothingness,
But futile fantasies of life and death linger in my mind.