They Keep Saying

Look at the sky, the ethereal wind;

And below, a grey sack of fragility. 

Hear the sky-hued birds’ chirping; 

Listen to the words of green nature.

Yet, I turn neither to wind nor sky, 

Nor let my keen eyes wander astray.

I hear the ticking of the age-old clock; 

My gaze stays at the center, fixed.

They keep saying, "The center is hell." 

I shut my eyes, knowing my destination. 

In the race of humankind, I shall rise; 

I keep looking at the center, untouched.

Center is the secret of inward success, 

Where ebon finds true light at its core. 

I find the whole world embedded in one, 

While they keep looking at the up-down.

They still keep saying, "Look up and down, 

And yield yourself to nature's callous fate." 

But the center—once tasted—I keep tasting; 

The outer dissolves into the inner truth.