Night Rains, Xi Li, has made a long time. Sit-in window, feeling extremely light, I was reminded that in the mountains and the night.
The last time he went to Mount Emei, choose a cloudy day. Soon the last thin strip of sky, mountains Piaoqi light rain. Rain Ruoyouruowu enough to wet clothes, I'd be happy to Xianbu in the rain, stop-go, all free. Probably because the weather reasons, very few visitors and give due Lingshan quiet. Peaks vigil, mountain faint, only the strands of rain drift, and butterflies float and dance. Body fresh clean, mixed into account has already thrown into mountain streams, with the water gone, the mountains, the old ape is not allow turbid objects. My meditation of "Shu Jing Jian Di salary, and returned cook Whitehead," the sentence, Youran up. Later poems read not only funny line of the winding, or stopped to look and listen. Hong Chunping go when the sky at dusk.
Pale yellow, the two Hong Chun. One has scorch, only the backbone of Wuli Leahey immortal, proudly. This is the result of three centuries ago in a fire. The other strains survived the robbery, Shouhou with peers, branches and leaves to the air inter-stretch, stretch. I was standing between the ups and downs, faced exclusion peak. Run dense rain silk floss at the moment, the empty mountains, solitude, in the gradually dim space-time, up and down a misty distance. Rong and dry is also blurred, and I suddenly want to ask Heavenly Questions asked woodpecker, only asked a dash of low, covered with melancholy. Behind the terra with a relatively Hong Chun Monastery of the gate. Gate together on "Buddha owners to billions of years for day and night for millions of years; taiwan tsubakimoto to Ba Qiannian as the spring and autumn Ba Qiannian as" a day-night, one spring one fall Who capability too? The temple Shakujou spring is still straight as a cane in the previous general, wait for it to carry to a monk. Integration of ground water, the sky, the world as a whole wet. The temple of the monastery were submerged dim loneliness in a rain-blurred edges to the edges and corners. Hill, Temple, people in the rain hairy, and wandering around in between the availability.
I live in front of the Buddhist temple mountain provisional the valley, was tall ginkgo, Phoebe covering their cage. Late at night, and efforts to open their eyes wide to see only vague one. Hei Ququ the shadow pressure, just like the waves fluctuated. A reed Bodhidharma crossing the river, that is marching like waves, right? Some cold, lying in bed fully clothed. I do not turn on the lights, guarding the dark and empty Buddhist temple. Listen to mountain breeze, listen to night rain, the rain was definitely the next big. Ling Ling whistle, clank Cong Cong, not tell that the wind is the rain, it sounds echo valley, the stimulation trees, such as the Ying and Youren. The wind in the dark roundabout, Hanyu Kengkengsuiyu, tidal hygiene, wash away my engulfed, leaving only a Kongkuo knows no boundaries. Wind and rain wander about, I remember when the evening goes on Inside the hall to see terra-lotus lamp. Although the dark, I could dimly see this great how beautiful lotus lamp. Lit lotus lamp, I think, the same light as the sea will drown me. Kong Fu, a poet there is a lotus lamps to write poems: "a lotus / sat 500 small Buddha / read a" light "/ / any of Bayeux / brown" really was no way out, the beauty of hard and people say that Only at this point I understand. Later, as evening classes monks, incense, offer incense, ringing bells, and blow Qing, drums, Qiaomu Yu, singing the classics, they sink into their own dream. Bell and chime sound, drums, wooden fish sound and singing through the sound mix of rain a musical, response drift, leisurely away. I blankly standing, facing the Buddha, the Buddha silent, smiling, do not re-know there is music, voice, the rain.
Side in bed, my heart trembled at the sound of various voices. Si Wai's taiwan tsubakimoto Kehao? Is a night of cold rain in the mountains may have been brought back memories of the Spring and Autumn 8000? XiXi, hee hee, finally Happy in the absence of HE the township, taiwan tsubakimoto Mody listening to the silence of the Buddha? He replies that everything can not say that is know, the Buddha silent, there are 1 trillion fashen, rain is not it? The tree is the youngest? I can not think, they no longer want to, mind empty, and clearly, and listen, I do not know when to sleep ... ...
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