One more time I sit and try
To paint the Nameless into speech and letters,
Words fly over the paper and won't land
In the lap of Emptiness, neither in its mouth.
When mind gets tired of the world,
A stopping occurs - an opening into the Void,
And that which seems solid releases itself from the flow,
Time disappears, swallowing lights and shapes.
Every moment is self-realization if one can
See the No-thingness that holds the thing-ness,
Burning down the ego's kingdom,
And the pillars of the "I".
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem