I have been worried for several generations.
The little monk turned back.
The chanting became hoarse.
There is no bodhi under
this temple to cross her A few
scrolls of scripture are hard to keep
this courtyard full of dim flowers.
You leave this house with love and hate
everywhere Can you look back?
Look at your smiling face How can I take
off my cassock and return it to your family?
Why don't I cross her The wind is still
blowing out who's time He has long hair.
Pack up the wooden fish She spent several more
summers without Bodhi. Her eyes are still red.
She is no longer here A few more knocks of the morning
bell will not cross the world's flowers.
I also bowed their heads and smiled
to see your long hair again. Laugh and ask
Buddha to cross millions of
families Why don't I cross her