Dust Poem by East Sea Fairy Xing Yi

You keep lowering down, and down, till you are close to a dust small
In your old home there you were born. There is a dragonfly
Flying across the fence. The look on the face that you can’t understand thoroughly
Is like an umbrella, though dyed black, looks white.
The line of sight cut again and again is like the toll of the temple bell
Bewilderingly poised
Just at the moment when it dies away, you feel you are pushed
By a gentle blast of wind