The Mountain pavilion is silent — few people visit me here
The mountain pavilion is silent — few people visit me here.
The bramble gate is patched with mud, my clothes are patched with
leaves.
I never rise from my bamboo bench — my hair is white as snow;
I no longer have a mind to ask for the secret of Zen.
The bramble gate is patched with mud, my clothes are patched with
leaves.
I never rise from my bamboo bench — my hair is white as snow;
I no longer have a mind to ask for the secret of Zen.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.