A silent night of selflessness is bright and pure
A dot of wind that cleares this world
Thrusting the body into the landscape
It is tapped on the shoulder
And shakes a sad young widow's chastity
Clang clang clang ...
As awakening absence of any desires
The tinkling of a wind-bell of that gorgeous nirvana
Washes away even the root of mountain
Meeting the wind
The mountain, his mind is shaken by only sound remained
Being loosened the hand of climax
Prickly, shy delight of moon breaking the darkness
In this temple
If a landscape meets the wind, it makes a sound.