The pond says:
if only I had hands and a voice,
how I would love, how cherish you!
People, you know, are greedy and always ailing
...
Great is the artist, knowing no duty
except the duty of the brush at play:
and his brush penetrates the heart of mountains,
penetrates the happiness of leaves,
...
Let us praise our earth,
let us praise the moon on the water,
that which is with no one and with all,
which is nowhere and everywhere -
...