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Though his feet leave their imprints in my footsteps |
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And his hands carry my belongings |
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If his mind is diseased |
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He is far from me |
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But he who is free of all temptation |
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And his mind is pure and peaceful |
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He is always with me |
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Though he be a thousand miles away |
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And you who are my homeless brother |
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Joy will be your arrow of direction |
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And the world is the path |
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That leads to my home |
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This home where there is no suffering |
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Is indeed most peaceful and happy |
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When a breeze moves through the leaves |
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Twisting them from emerald to silver |
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I will be the sound |
