This clear sky above,
even if we paint on it,
no mark nor stain would lasts.
This blue sky above,
white clouds come and go,
yet no traces could be found.
This vast sky above,
it neither hold nor let go,
it has nothing yet embrace everything.
Seasons come and go,
and all things walk on the same path.
Rather than become a season,
why can't I become the still yet dancing sky?
Deluded illusion create stupidity,
craving to the dream that will vanishes.
Sadness come from the desire to hold,
frustration come from the desire to let go.
The inspiring sky,
the dreams soon will ends,
when we realize that clouds and the sky,
is not different at all.
let me share this wisdom,
let me be the lasts to endure this pain,
let me be the sage that will liberate,
all the things under the sky.