People of this world put themselves in chains for the sake of gain and fame,
Then talk of the world of dust, the sea of bitterness.
They do not know that:
Clouds are white, mountains green.
Rivers run, rocks stand erect,
Blossoms invite, birds chirp merrily.
The valley responds, the woodcutters sing,
This world, again, is not of dust;
The sea, again, is not bitter,
It is only that, on their own, they put dust and bitterness in their hearts.
Then talk of the world of dust, the sea of bitterness.
They do not know that:
Clouds are white, mountains green.
Rivers run, rocks stand erect,
Blossoms invite, birds chirp merrily.
The valley responds, the woodcutters sing,
This world, again, is not of dust;
The sea, again, is not bitter,
It is only that, on their own, they put dust and bitterness in their hearts.
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