Inmost Love

Coming and going 

Are both perhaps merely an illusion,

And manifestation is now ...

If all life is temporally temporal 

Then all life is merely a deception 

What should be and now 

Two-worlds fastened together 

Like the mystifying summer and winter 

To remain in pain is suffering 

To love without thought is freedom 

But only in the world of now ...

What is and what should be 

Come to a nadir, which is eternally illusory ...

Memory and desire 

Hidden in the past which we do not know 

Into the flowing river...time flows 

And long-lasting perpetuity...

But who is behind me 

Perplexed and petrified like a warm in the tuberose 

Perhaps I should know 

Perhaps I do not know ...

Drooping flowers 

Falling in the garden ...should I sleep? 

Should I stay? 

Blizzards, melody of beruffled bird amidst the groves,

Voice of the universe, great haunting, 

Throughout the world. Germination in the white fields, 

Into the newly flourished flowers, thriving and stirring,

Should I cease at this point of time or follow the shadow which is following me?

The pretext of the time...devious and deceitful, 

There unaccompanied I looking at the lonesome sky, remote, abandoned, solitary,

Dying without past, now and now, 

In the emptiness, inmost love, 

And the sweet symphony of white bird...

Coming and going 

Through pattern and in pattern 

Flimsy lantern in the void silence 

So shall I move clandestinely, surreptitiously,

Through furtive time, or to have a look at the sedate and placid flowers...

Or shall I go into the world of Unknown...

Purposelessness all permeating 

Empty the thought, dull memory, secluded rose,

Emptying of time is now 

Cannot live very much in ephemeral world...

What is and what should be

Come to one point, which is innermost love...