Chanting the sacred readings Take place at the bottom of the abyss Where to avoid obstacles In order to get on the subject A subject without inside or outside. The quest for what is inside of being Don't stop yourself from being wandering On the edge of a pure and bright river With only proof of life The indolence and indecency of absence. There remains this emotion in the back of your throat The open barn door The reception by the shower dispensed Drop by drop of thoughts falling from the roof Dry feet. What saddens me These are the rough paths of memory Scattered straw tremolos in all winds Very heavy to carry For those who try to mint money. Let's not die after every failure The world is big, the earth is rich The almond blossoms fly away Behind the fence Where every lesson is to be learned. Above the sky without consciousness or unconsciousness Below in round slippers the chilliness And to make existence even more tactile Incense sticks Between numb fingers. Before the mind surrenders to illusion Let's go through recognition Welcoming the eons of childhood In the depths of what has neither face nor back This sleeper when windows are absent. In a blue sky Nothing but my heart With lantern The moon Together may the clean shadow never be saddened. Some days I gather a few pieces of wood For early winter Make sticks in the fire of the soul In the non-existent moment of non-action. Dance of the fireflies As we get older Between the stone and the hearth fire Rise the crackle of the flame High adornment for the white-haired man. Open up through the five senses At the tip of the pen Like wrapping the bone in skin Causes bright light Waiting for flight. Defy what people will say Drink while singing A full stomach Let's know how to frame this marvel In the crevice of the poem. 1430
