Through the silent night I hear the returning vagrant hopes of the morning knock at my heart.
My new love comes bringing to me the eternal wealth of the gold.
The earth gazes at the moon and wonders that she should have all her music in her smile.
Day with its glare of curiosity puts the stars to flight.
My mind has its ture union with thee，O Sky，at the window which is mine own，and not in the open where thou hast thy sole kingdom.
Man claims God’s flowers as his own when he weaves them in a garland.
The buried city，laid bare to the sun of a new age，is ashamed that it has lost all its songs.
Like my heart’s pain that has long missed its meaning，the sun’s rays robed in dark hide themselves under the ground.Like my heart’s pain at love’s sudden touch，they change their veil at the spring’s call and come out in the carnival of colours，in flowers and leaves.
My life’s empty flute waits for its final music like the primal darkness before the stars came out.
Emancipation from the bondage of the soil is no freedom for the tree.
The tapestry of life’s story is woven with the threads of life"s ties ever joining and breaking.
The thoughts of mine that are never captured by words perch upon my songs and dance.
My soul tonight loses itself in the silent heart of a tree standing alone among the whispers of immensity.
Pearl shells cast up by the sea on death’s barren beach，a magnificent wastefulness of creative life.
The sunlight opens for me the world’s gate，love’s light its treasure.
My life like the reed with its stops，has its play of colours through the gaps in its hopes and gains.
Let not my thanks to thee rob my silence of its fuller homage.
Life’s aspirations come in the guise of children.
The faded flower sighs that the spring has vanished for ever.
In my life’s garden my wealth has been of the shadows and lights that are never gathered and stored.
The fruit that I have gained for ever is that which thou hast accepted.
The jasmine knows the sun to be her brother in the heaven.
Light is young，the ancient light，shadows are of the moment，they are born old.
I feel that the ferry of my songs at the day’s end will bring me across to the other shore from where I shall see.
The butterfly flitting from flower to flower ever remains mine，I lose the one that is netted by me.