even buddhas die...
but without mourning,
without a sense of loss,
without asking for tears.
but they do feel mourning,
yours...
they do feel a sense of loss,
yours....
and they shed tears,
that are yours....
and so reborn by choice,
to help carry your bucket,
and walk beside you...
for buddhas help buddhas
till all are free!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it.