Dedicated to My Root Master, the Zen Master Tich Chieu
By Nguyen Giac Phan Tan Hai
Obeying your words, my steps
cross the shore to guide all beings.
Mist softens this fleeting world—
the road is far, yet the heart stays near.
Looking into the mirror, I suddenly see
my hair has turned white as dew.
Each day I breathe in quietness,
chilled by the winds of impermanence.
Opening the sutra, reading word by word,
I feel the Truc Lam forest tremble.
Breathing in, the Thien Mu bell
resonates through my whole body.
A single flower is lifted—
someone holds it, yet no one holds;
someone sees it, yet no one sees;
there is only the flower appearing.
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