If the birds stop singing, if the wind is tired, then cover me with a veil of darkness, just like you wrap the earth with a sleeping sheet and gently close the drooping lotus petals at dusk.
Before the end of the journey, the traveler with empty bags, rags, dust and exhaustion, please remove his shame and poverty and let his life be reborn like a flower in your kind night.
If the day has passed, the birds are no longer singing, and the wind is tired, then cover me with a thick dark curtain, just like you wrap the earth with a sleeping quilt at dusk and gently close the petals of water lilies.
The traveler's trip hasn't arrived yet. His food bag is empty, his clothes are torn and dirty, and he is exhausted. You lifted his shyness and embarrassment, and let his life wake up like a flower on a kind night.
What I long for
I know that one day I will not see this earth, and life will leave silently, and draw the last curtain on my eyes.
However, the stars will watch at night and still rise in the morning, and time will fluctuate like waves, bringing joy and pain.
When I think of my instant end, the instant barrier is broken, and I see your world and its careless treasure through the light of death. What is rare is its lowest seat, and what is rare is its meanest life.
What I longed for in vain and what I got-let them go. Let me really have what I once spurned and ignored.
I know this day will come, when the world in my eyes gradually disappears, life silently says goodbye to me and closes the last curtain to cover my eyes.
But the stars will watch at night, the morning light will still rise, and time is like the surging waves, stirring with joy and sadness.
When I think of the end of my time, the fence of time is broken. In the light of death, I saw your world and the abandoned treasures in this world. The lowest seat is extremely rare, and the most living creatures are also rare in the world.
Let them go of what I have sought but have not got, and what I have got. Only let me really have what I despise and ignore.