Condensed in a sensation,
Burning at the core of an action,
Or confined within Stilness,
The force of Spirit mingles with fire.
It's that thrist for knowing the Truth,
Beyond the frescos that life paints,
Beyond the lie of being a body or an "I",
Thrown at the mercy of circumstances.
That pull towards discovering
The amazing beauty of empty Presence,
The no-self, no-name, no-movement
Is irresistible, brimming and sweet!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem