I
remember
when you were still a white cloud
floating freely
wherever you wanted
to go.
I too
was following my own course as a stream,
seeking its way to the immense ocean.
You
enjoyed listening to the chanting pines
on the high peaks.
I moved up and down,
in
and out,
on the white crest
of the infinite waves.
Seeing
the world of humans suffer so much,
their tears becoming rivers,
you
transformed yourself into rain.
Raindrop after raindrop fell each winter night.
White
clouds covered the whole sky.
The sun agonized
in such darkness.
You
called me back.
You called to me
to take my hands
and create a powerful storm
together.
How
could we not struggle
when even the prairie flowers
and mountain grass
moaned
from the pain of injustice?
You
lifted up your angelic arms,
determined to release the chains of oppression.
War and
darkness enveloped everything.
The dark barrel of the gun -- the utmost
violence --
bones heaped up into mountains,
and blood flowing into rivers.
Even
after your hands were crushed,
my dear, the chains were not removed.
I
called the thunder back to your side.
We were determined to confront violence.
You
were brave.
During the darkness of the night,
you transformed yourself into a
lion king
and let out a powerful roar.
In the foggy night,
tens of thousands of
evil spirits
heard your roar
and shivered,
filled with fear.
But
fearlessly,
you never stepped back,
even while so many layers of traps and
dangers
were before us.
You looked calmly at the violence
as if it weren't
there.
What is
the nature of life and death?
How could life and death pressure us?
You
called my name with a smile.
Not a
single moan came from you,
even under chains and torture.
Now you
are free.
The chains can no longer confine your true body.
You return to your
life as a white cloud
just like before --
a white cloud utterly free
in the
immense sky.
Coming
and going --
it's up to you.
When you want to have a look, you just stop.
As for
me,
I am still on the crest of the waves,
singing for you
this epic song.
