To Zen Master Tue Sy
By Phan Tan Hai
He brought the monk back to Van Gia village,
where waterfalls chilled the flow of verse.
Opening his eyes, he gazed through the realm of death—
the midnight forest heavy beneath a dim moon.
What was the monk waiting for, that his hair turned white,
as the final watch drifted across the misty world?
He translated three thousand sutras and treatises,
then lifted his head toward the nation—tears falling.
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