Here is the buddha, there is the biding
In the one aloof place.
With Time's current eddying round, which
Furrowed his tranquil face.
Across which, as when his peace respecting
Many a live thing sweep.
Besides the cloudlets, which like lambkins are.
Besides the clouds, like sheep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem