Classic Poem

In heaven and earth, no ground to plant my single staff,
but I can hide this body where no trace will be found.
At midnight the wooden man mounts his horse of stone,
crashing through a hundred, a thousand folds of encircling iron.

I delight that man is nothing, all things nothing,
a thousand worlds complete in my one cage.
Blame forgotten, mind demolished, a three-Zen joy —
who says Devadatta is in hell?

Wonderful, this three-foot sword of the Great Yüan,
sparkling with cold frost over ten thousand miles.
Though the skull go dry, these eyes will see again.
My white gem worth a string of cities has never had a flaw.

Like lightning it flashes through the shadows, severing the spring wind.
The god of nothingness bleeds crimson, streaming.
Mount Sumeru to my amazement turns upside down.
I will dive, disappear into the stem of the lotus.