I've never had a sheep,
But I seem to have taken care of them.
My soul is like a shepherd,
Know the wind direction, know the sun,
Keep pace with the four seasons
To follow and listen.
All the tranquility of the silent nature.
Come and sit next to me.
But I'm still as sad as the sunset
Because our imagination reveals it,
When the cold current comes to the other side of the valley.
When you feel the night has come.
Like a butterfly through a window.
But my sadness is calm.
Because it's natural and correct.
Will inevitably appear in the soul.
When it is thinking, it exists.
His hand is picking flowers. Without even looking at which one it is.
In the harsh pastoral bells
Except for the bend in the road,
I am satisfied.
It's just, I'm sorry. I know they're satisfied,
Because, if I didn't know this,
They will not fall into sadness when they are satisfied.
But happy and satisfied.
Thinking is uncomfortable, just like walking in the rain.
The wind blows harder and harder, and it seems to rain harder and harder.
I have no desires or thoughts.
Being a poet means nothing to me.
This is the way to leave me alone.
If sometimes I yearn,
To imagine, I long to be a shepherd boy.
(or become a flock of sheep.
In order to run and spread all over the mountains,
Enter a variety of happy lives at the same time),
That's just because I think my description of the sunset,
Because a cloud reaches over the light,
There was silence on the empty grassland.
Every time I sit down and write a poem,
Or, when I walk on the road or by the river.
When I write a poem on a blank piece of paper in my mind,
I feel like I have a shepherd's crank in my hand.
I saw my outline.
Right on the top of the mountain,
Listen to my sheep, guard my imagination,
Or listen to my imagination, look after my sheep,
Smile absently, as if-people don't understand.
What did you say?
Trying to pretend to understand again.
I say hello to everyone who might read me,
Take off my wide-brimmed hat to them,
They saw me in front of my house.
And the bus had a hard time getting to the top of the mountain.
I greeted them and wished them a sunny day.
Enjoy the rain and dew when they need it.
Their house may be
Right under an open window.
Maybe they are sitting.
Sitting in my beloved chair, reading my poems.
When they read my poems, they may think.
I'm a nature—
For example, an old tree
When they were children,
Suddenly sat down, tired of the game.
Use the sleeves of striped shirts.
Wipe the sweat off your hot forehead.
five
Rich metaphysics exists where there is no thought at all.
What do I want to see the world?
How can I understand the world I am thinking about?
If I'm abnormal, I'll think about it.
What do I think about things?
What is my view on cause and effect?
About God, Soul and the Creation of the World
What kind of meditation do I have?
I don't know. For me, thinking about this is equivalent to closing my eyes.
Stop thinking. It's like painting my window.
Curtains (but there are no curtains in my window)
The mystery of things? How do I know what mystery is,
The only mystery is that there is a person there who may be thinking about the mystery.
Stand alone in the sun and close your eyes.
Began to forget what the sun is.
Think of many hot things at the same time.
But he opened his eyes and saw the sun.
Now he can't think of anything.
Because sunshine is far more important than
The ideas of all philosophers and poets are more valuable.
Sunshine doesn't know what he is doing.
So I won't lose it, so it's normal and not bad.
Metaphysics? What's the metaphysics of those trees?
It is green, with a crown and branches.
Trees that bear fruit on time-they are not used to letting us
Meditate,
We don't know how to identify them.
But what metaphysics is better than theirs?
I don't know why they are alive
Don't know their ignorance?
"the internal structure of things" ...
The intrinsic meaning of the universe ...
It's all fake, with illusory meaning.
It's incredible that people can come up with those tricks.
It's like someone walking through the edge of the forest in the early morning with a glimmer of light.
When a blur of gold swept through the darkness
Reflections on rationality and termination.
Think about the inner meaning of things
This is a waste of energy, just like thinking about health.
Or throw a piece of glass into the spring.
The inner meaning of "only-"
But they have no intrinsic meaning.
I don't believe in God, because I have never seen him.
If he wants me to believe him,
Of course he should come and talk to me,
Should walk through my door,
Say to me: I'm coming!
Maybe that voice is for someone,
Kind of funny. He doesn't know what it means to observe things.
I don't understand why people talk about things.
Just talking about everything I learned from what I saw with my own eyes. )
But if God is a flower and a tree,
It's the mountains, the sun and the moonlight,
Then I'll believe him,
Then I will always believe him,
My whole life is prayer, mass,
A communication ceremony completed by sight and hearing.
But if God is a tree and a flower,
It's mountains, moonlight and the sun,
Why do I call him God,
I call him flowers, trees, mountains, sun and moonlight;
Because, if in order to let me see him, he turned himself into.
Sun, moonlight, flowers, trees and mountains,
If he becomes a tree, a mountain
Moonlight, the sun and flowers appeared in front of me.
This is what he wants me to know.
Think of it as trees, mountains, flowers, moonlight and the sun.
So I obeyed him.
How can I know God better than himself?
I obeyed him instinctively,
It's like-a person opens his eyes and sees.
I call him moonlight, sun, flowers, trees and mountains.
I love him, but I don't miss him.
I looked at him and listened to him,
I've been with him.
seven
I can see so much from my village, just as people can see the universe from the earth …
So my village is as big as other planets.
Because I am the measure of what I see.
Not my own height and size. ...
city life
Smaller than the house on my hill.
In the city, the house closes its view and locks up.
Hide the horizon and push our eyes away from the whole sky.
Shrinking us because they took what our eyes gave us,
Let's become poor, because our only wealth is watching.
13
Gently, gently, very gently.
A gust of wind, an unusual breeze, blowing
Slipped away again, still very light.
I don't know what I was thinking.
No desire to know.
14
I'm not worried about rhyming. rarely
Two trees side by side are equal.
Just like flowers have colors, I meditate and write.
But the skills of self-expression are far from skillful.
Because I lack the ability to be everything.
Sacred simplicity, only appearance.
I watched, moved,
I was very touched, because when the land tilted and the water began to flow,
My poems naturally rise like a gust of wind. ...
24
What we see is what we see.
Why do we only see one thing, if there are other things there?
Why did what I saw and heard become self-deception?
If you see and hear, do you really see and hear?
The most fundamental thing is to be good at observation.
Good at looking without thinking,
You can really see it when you look at it,
Don't think when you look at it,
Don't look while thinking.
But please do this (it's a pity that we put so many clothes on our souls! )
Need a whole set of courses,
The apprenticeship of learning to forget.
Seclusion in a free monastery
Some people say that the stars there are eternal nuns.
Flowers are passionate penitents in lonely days,
But in the end, stars are just stars.
Flowers are just flowers, nothing else,
This is why we call them stars and flowers.
25
The child kept coming out of the reed pipe.
Blowing soap bubbles
Translucent expression of perfect philosophy.
Bright, impermanent, aimless, just like nature,
Friends of the eyes, like other things,
They are them.
With symmetrical and intangible accuracy,
No one, not even their children,
You can't pretend that they are more meaningful than they look.
Some things are almost invisible in bright air.
Like a breeze, it passed by and obviously touched the flowers.
We also know that it is passing by.
That's only because some things were sent to us by air.
It contains everything more transparently.
26
Sometimes, on sunny days,
When the situation becomes as real as possible,
I stopped to ask myself.
Why do I put beauty
Attribution to things.
Will a flower try its best to be beautiful?
Will beautiful women try to give beauty to fruits?
No: They have colors and shapes.
It still exists, that's all.
Beauty is the name of something that doesn't exist.
I give things beauty in exchange for the happiness they give me.
It doesn't have any symbolic meaning,
So why do I say this: Are they beautiful?
Yes, even me, I only live to survive.
It also involves people lying about things.
For things that simply exist.
How difficult it is to be yourself and see nothing but what you can see!
30
They just want me to have a mysticism. Well, I have one.
I'm mysterious, but only my body.
My soul is simple and never thinks.
My mysticism is not expecting to understand.
Live, not think.
I don't know what nature is: I praise her.
I live at the top of the mountain.
In a lonely painted room,
This is my limit.
Forty-four
I woke up suddenly at night.
My clock occupied the whole night.
You can't feel nature outdoors.
My house is a black thing with fuzzy white walls around it.
Outside, there is only silence, as if nothing exists.
Only the clock continues to tick.
This little thing on my desk.
Suffocate everything in the earth and the sky.
I almost lost myself thinking about what it symbolizes.
But after a pause, I felt like I was in the dark.
With a smile on her lips,
Because my clock fills the huge night with its smallness.
The only thing it symbolizes or means.
It is this strange feeling that fills this huge night.
Because it's small ...
47
A day full of violence and sunshine,
The kind where you wish you had done a lot of work.
On the day when nothing has to be done,
I see, like a road in the forest ahead,
This may be a big mystery,
A big mystery told by a fake poet.
I can't see nature,
Nature does not exist,
Only mountains, canyons, open plains,
Only trees, flowers, grass,
Only streams and stones,
But no whole dominates all this,
Any real connection,
It's just a disease of our ideas.
Nature is only a part, and the whole does not exist.
Maybe this is the mystery they are talking about.
I see. This one has no thoughts.
What doesn't even have a punctuation mark, it must be true,
Everyone started looking for it, but couldn't find it.
I was alone because I didn't want to find it, but I found it.
Forty nine
I shut myself indoors and closed the window.
They brought a lamp and said good night to me.
I also said good night to them with a satisfied voice.
Oh, maybe my life should be like this:
These days are full of sunshine, warm rain,
It seems that there will be a storm when the end comes.
The night is gentle, the crowd passes by,
Looking curiously from the window,
The last friendly glance fell on the silent tree,
Then, close the window and turn on the light.
Read nothing, think nothing, sleep nothing,
But when I feel the overflow of life, I am like a stream overflowing the river bed.
And outside, the great silence is like a sleeping god.