I am a man of refinement, unafraid of others' criticism of my extravagance.
I am a person of elegance and refinement, unperturbed by the rain and proud of myself, and indifferent to the wounds inflicted by the stars and moon. My heart is like a lotus, unafraid of extravagance.
To look down on the world, or to disdain everything – it makes no difference. Wandering through the years, even having witnessed splendor, joy and sorrow are equally balanced.
Once the wound has healed, why bother to pick at it? Once the memories have faded, why dwell on them?
Looking back, it's all just a fleeting moment. Let it drift away with the dream, let it melt with the rising sun, let it disperse like lotus blossoms.
Better to let go and be oneself, shedding the dust of the earth and smiling as you turn and hold a long reed in your hand, smiling as you walk along the river of life.
Let reunions and departures be rendered into paintings along the journey, extended into poems.
I wish to listen to the murmuring of spring water amidst a jade vine, to sketch the illusion of weathered twilight in a thousand sunbeams, to dye the subtle curves of emotion in the falling leaves, to see the truth of lightness and impermanence in the increasing chill.
When settled at home, perhaps sitting in a corner with a cup of good tea, or in the evening twilight, alone with a lamp and a glass of wine.
Life should be like water's softness, wine's rich aroma.
