The moon shines on the river, The wind blows through the pines,-- Whose providence is this long beautiful evening? The Buddha-nature jewel of morality Is impressed on the ground of my mind, And my robe is the dew, the fog, the cloud, and the mist.
Your eyes are an empyrean radiance
and your breath is invisible
When I run out of ways to talk about the wind
I will be a dumb, happy mute