If the bloody murderer thinks he has killed someone,
If the deceased thinks he has killed someone,
They do not understand my mysterious way deeply - —
The road I left and then turned back.
Distant, forgotten, as I am now;
The shadows are exactly like the sun;
The gods who have extinguished the fire still appear before me;
Honor and disgrace are the same to me.
Those who forget me have miscalculated;
Those who run away from me, I am his wings;
I am a doubter. I am also the doubt,
and I am the monk and the hymn he sings.
The mighty Word of God longs for my house,
The Seven Saints are equally delusional;
But you, the humble lover of good!
You found me and abandoned heaven