When will I go home and be an idler. Half a cup of snow for tea, smile and pick a flower. In the glitz, in a hurry, smiling at the world, being patient with trivialities, and the heart is in the mountains and rivers, the pieces of floating clouds, watching a river

When will I go home and be an idler. Half a cup of snow for tea, smile and pick a flower. In the glitz, in a hurry, smiling at the world, being patient with trivialities, and the heart is in the mountains and rivers, the pieces of floating clouds, watching the shadow of a river fall, and getting half a mountain of smoke and rain. Wear forest leaves, bamboo sticks and shoes, slowly walking in the path, who is afraid, a smoke and rain for a lifetime. One step forward, one step benefits, every step has joy, one stop, one place is quiet, everywhere is pure land. Releasing a body of wind and dust, returning, the clouds are light and the wind is light, and the twilight cooking smoke rises.

Living in the present, the past goes with the wind, a smoke and rain, a curtain of tea, how many people, living in the joy and hatred of others, the noise of the ears, the prosperity of the body, the closer to the competition for fame and fortune, the more they want to withdraw and return. A room of spring cold, a single pot of tea, quiet taste, incense, light laughter, time is like a wisp, caressing by, all things, all things have passed, all things have returned, the dust in the heart, when silence.

Thinking of returning, and going, the heart is in the breeze, the heart is among the falling flowers, the heart is in the smoke and rain of the mid-mountain, waving to the dust, being the floating clouds that fall in the west, embracing the future, and greeting the warm breath of spring.