THE BOOKS OF TRUTH BEING POSSIBLY ON YOUR SIDE Poem by ZANG DI

Wild geese are flying through loopholes.
If you don't look, the blue loopholes cease to exist.
If you don't fill the holes, the winged truth
will not stop flapping.

You are not your only object: stir up,
the self will dissolve into magma, for love or some volcano.
If you don't erupt, the vessels concealed
will not be made known.

Your truth is a goose in flight, encountering the vast expanse,
the miraculous becomes a state of mind. My truth is a rope,
rough to a certain extent, I will whip the wolves
bursting out of my body, running in the cries of geese.