Chapter 6 6

76 Day after day, O Lord of my life, can I stand opposite you?Oh, Lord of the whole world, can I stand opposite You with my palms together? Under the vast sky, in the silence, can I stand opposite you with a reverent heart? In your busy world, amidst the tumult of toil and struggle, and the hustle and bustle of the crowd, can I stand opposite you? When I have done the work of this life, O King of kings, shall I stand before Thee alone? 77 I knew you were my God, but I stood away--I didn't know you were mine, and I approached you.I know you are my father, and I fall at your feet—I don't shake your hand as I shake a friend's.

I didn't stand and wait where you came, holding you to my chest, taking you as my comrade, and possessing you. You are my brother's brother, but I ignore them and don't share what I earn with them. I thought I could share everything I have with you by doing so. In happiness and pain, I didn't stand on the side of human beings. I thought I could stand with you only by doing so. I cringed and refused to give up my life, so I didn't plunge into the great ocean of life. 78 When the majesty was first opened, and the stars first shot out their brilliance, the gods assembled in the sky, singing "Oh, perfect picture, perfect joy!"

A god suddenly called out—"It seems that a link in the chain of light is broken, and a star is lost." The strings of their golden harps snapped, their singing stopped, and they cried out in panic—"Yes, that lost star is the most beautiful, she is the glory of the heavens!" From that day on, they kept looking for her, saying that because she was lost, the world lost a kind of joy. Only in the quiet night, the stars smiled and whispered to each other - "It's useless to look for it, perfect perfection covers everything!" 79 If I have no chance to meet you in this life, let me always feel that I hate to meet you——

Let me not forget, let me carry the pain of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours. As my days pass in the bustle of the world, with my hands full of the daily profits, let me ever feel that I have gained nothing--let me not forget, let me carry this sorrow in my dreams and in my waking hours pain. When I sit on the side of the road, weary and panting, when I make my bedding in the dust, let me always remember the long road ahead--let me not forget, let me carry the pangs of sorrow in my wake and in my dreams . When my house is decked out, and the flute is playing, and the laughter is loud, let me ever feel that I have not invited you to my house--let me not forget, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.

80 I am like an autumn cloud, wandering in the air without a master, O my ever-brightening sun!Far from your touch having evaporated my moisture and united me with your light, I counted the long years of separation from you. If this is your wish, if this is your game, please paint my passing emptiness with color and gold, and let it float in the strong wind and roll into various wonders. And if you will end this game at night, I will dissolve in the dark, or in the smile of the bright morning light, in the purifying coolness. 81 In many idle days I have mourned wasted time.But the time is not wasted, my lord.You control every inch of my life.

You are hidden in the heart of all things, nurturing the seed to sprout, the bud to bloom, and the flower to bear fruit. Weary, I sleep on my couch, imagining that all work has ceased.When I woke up in the morning, I found that my garden was full of exotic flowers. 82 The time in your hands is infinite, my lord.Your minutes are immeasurable. As night goes to dawn, times bloom and fade like flowers.You know how to wait. Your centuries, one after another, come to complete a little wild flower. Our time cannot be wasted, because there is no time, we must strive for opportunities.We are too poor to be late.

Therefore, after I give time to everyone who is impatient and asks for my time, my time is wasted, and in the end there will be no sacrifice on your altar. As the day passed, I hastened to come, lest your door be closed; but I found there was plenty of time. 83 O Holy Mother, I will put my mournful tears into a pearl chain and hang them around your neck. The stars make anklets of light to adorn your feet, but my bead chains hang on your chest. Fame and fortune come from you, and it all depends on what you give and take.But this sorrow is all my own, and when I offer it to you as a sacrifice, you reward me with your kindness.

84 Sorrow of parting permeates the world, creating countless situations in the boundless sky. It is this Lichou who quietly gazes at the stars all night. In the rainy July, the rustling trees turn into lyrical poetry. It is this caged and pervasive pain that deepens and becomes love and desire, and becomes the pain and joy of the world; it is that it flows through the poet's heart forever, melts and flows, and becomes poetry. 85 When the soldiers have just stepped out of their lord's bright hall, where is their force hidden?Where are their armor and weapons hidden? They looked helpless and pitiful, and on the day they walked out of their lord's bright hall, arrows rained down on him.

When the warriors marched back to their lord's hall, where was their force hidden? They laid down their swords and bows; peace shone on their brows, and they left behind the fruit of their lives when they marched in company to the hall of their lord. 86 Death, thy servant, come to my door.He has come to my house across the unknown sea to bear your call. The night is dark, and I am afraid--but I will take up the lamp, and open the door, and bow to him.For it is your messenger who stands at my door. I want to worship him with my hands clasped together and tears in my eyes.I will lay the treasure of my heart at his feet, and worship him.

He will go back when his mission is completed, leaving a shadow in my morning light; in my depressed home, only me alone is left, as the last sacrifice for you. 87 In hopeless hope, I searched for her in every corner of the room; I could not find her. My house is small and once I lose something I can never get it back. But your house is boundless, my Lord, and to find her I have come to your door. I stand under your twilight golden sky and lift up longing eyes to you. I have come to the limits of eternity, where nothing dies--hope, happiness, or face seen through tears. Oh, dip my empty life into this ocean, plunge into this deepest fullness.Let me, in the wholeness of the universe, feel for once that lost warm touch.

88 God in the ruined temple!The broken strings of the lyre no longer sing your hymns.The evening bell will no longer announce the time of your prayers.The air around you is still. The wandering spring breeze has come to your desolate dwelling.It brings about the disappearance of the fragrant flower—that is, the fragrant flower that has been offered to you, but now no one comes to present it. Thy worshippers, those wandering habitual travelers, are forever longing for the unearned grace.When dusk came, the lights flickered in the shadows of the dust, and he came back to the dilapidated temple wearily and with a hungry heart. Many festivals come in silence, god of the ruined temple.Many Sunday nights were also passed without fire or light. Skillful artists, made many new gods, and when their end came, they were thrown into the holy river of oblivion. Only the gods of the ruined temples remain in unworshipped, immortal indifference. 89 I will speak no more - it is the will of my Lord.Since then I have been soft-spoken.The words of my heart shall be whispered in songs. People hurried to the King's Market, where all the buyers and sellers were. But at noon when I was busy at work, I left early. Then let the flowers bloom in my garden, though not yet; and let the bees at noon their lazy humming. I used to spend plenty of time in the battle of reason and desire, but now it is the pleasure of my leisure companion that draws my heart to him; spectacle. 90 When death comes knocking at your door, what will you offer him? Oh, I'll set before my guests my full cup of life— I will never let it go back empty-handed. All the rich harvest of my autumn days and summer nights, all the acquisitions and hoardings of my hasty life, I will set before my death when death knocks at my door.