Leaning on the Armrest

Body comfortable, you forget your four limbs;
mind comfortable, you forget right and wrong.
Once comfortable, you forget about comfortable,
no longer know who you are.
Hundred body parts like a withered tree—
stolid, blank, aware of nothing;
square inch of mind so much dead ash—
hushed and still, free of all thought,
today and the same tomorrow,
body and mind both sloughed off.
I've lived thirty-nine years
and now the year is ending, sun going down.
If at forty my mind remains unmoved
I think I'll almost have it!
Author of original: 
Po Chü-i
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