In the high spheres of your Being,
Senses cool off their blazing rays and
Shorten their claws to less then a seed size
Then, one is no longer filled with a kingdom of form!
Endless attempts to make the earth a heaven,
To reach the next peak among the commets,
But heaven isn't in the sky or on the ground,
It's Emptiness at its purest!
How could one see this if it fails to cease
Riding the wheel between up and down,
Being a puppet involved in an exhausting show,
Addicted to the limelights of hell?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
heaven isn't in the sky or on the ground, It's Emptiness at its purest! ....excellent poetic writing with splendid title