ON MYSELF   

I am sitting here to watch each drop of rain,  

Mild echo of hundreds of ancient skies to regain.

Slowly within my innermost each minute, hour,

Thousands of repercussions indifferently lour.

Oh life! body and soul have worn out stepwise;

Grave faith fuddles, the holy deity away flies.

Therefrom I fall down and feel slightly heavy;

In the air even dust also drifts dreamily already.

Out there, flitter-mice wing in nets in eventide

Cover myriad tear puddles the azure blood dyed.

The webs sweep, bottom weighty with dusk due,

All limbs exhausted, my heart gets tired too.

I sit here to watch historic vestiges whiz away,

Birds leave, beasts come, sorrow forests display,

Things gradually fall, drop. Where are they due?

A derelict antique fane to hold each sparse statue.

Sitting to watch my hair grow grey hourly lonely,

Joss-stick bottoms get dust, I worship myself ony.

Translation by Thanh-Thanh