That day
Close your eyes in the fragrant mist of the Sutra Hall
suddenly heard
The mantra in your chanting
that month
I shake all the prayer wheels
not for transcendence
Just to touch your fingertips
that year
Kowtow and prostrate on the mountain road
Not for audience
Just to stay close to your warmth
that life
I go around mountains, rivers, and pagodas
Not for cultivating the afterlife
Just to meet you on the way...
