October 23^rd, 2024

Bird tracks among towering snow clad peaks;
With the master’s passing away,
Who will embody Ch’an?

Dust on the table has gathered
Since he entered Nirvana;
The color of the trees is different
From the time when he was alive.

The storied pagoda faces
The wind blowing through the pines;
Traces of his presence linger by the deserted spring.

I sigh only for the tiger listening to sutras,
As time and again it comes by the side
Of the dilapidated hermitages.