translation

Look at the bird, he spreads his wings,
The image stays like a song I sing.
He flies in a tune above, below,
So rich and free from the toil I know.
 
For ages I gaze at the sun and moon,
The distant clouds, whose path still looms.
For hundreds of rich, who know not right,
They do no good, but use their might.
 
 
Original Chinese Poem
 

United in time and space
Existing in nothing
But the never-ending grace
Of consciousness’ string
When seen from inside the place
A tranquil life can bring.
 
I’ll follow him thus!
 
 
 
After the Sanskrit of Bhartri Hari