By Dian Dian, Formosa (Originally
a quiet pond, a willow tree is gently swaying;
Across a winding bridge, I am strolling.
Looking up, seeing the smoke from the kitchen spiraling
I feel the breeze caressing my cheeks.
In the pavilion, I rest my feet,
Listening to the sounds of a poem recital,
Remembering the grace of my Master.
Closing my eyes and letting the soul be free,
I am traveling in Heaven on Earth!