The birds have vanished into the sky, and now the last cloud drains away. We sit together, the mountain and me, until only the mountain remains.

Since Life is but a Dream, Why toil to no avail?

The living is a passing traveler; The dead, a man come home.

The birds have vanished into the sky, and now the last cloud drains away. We sit together, the mountain and me, until only the mountain remains.

Forever and forever and forever

I bow in reverence to the white cloud.

Shade and light are different in every valley.