North Ancestor's triple meditation ground,
Western hills with ten thousand pine trees stand.
The gate faces a winding stream's strand,
The bridge mirrors bamboo thickets grand.
Cut and built, the foundation steps are straight,
Embracing scenes, the atmosphere feels great.
Each cliff divides the temple's estate,
Twin ridges embrace the walls' strong state.
The sarira pagoda's layers rise,
Incense burners claim the small peak's prize.
The practice site by laymen set with care,
The sutra store by masters sealed fair.
The prince knew well how plants to rear,
Divine kings guard the crucial frontier.
Yojanas lined with lecture seats in sight,
The sixteen-foot true image shines bright.
Buddha's words by Kalavinka told,
Monks walk with tigers, fierce and bold.
Asura lifts the sun to block its ray,
Ruchira draws frosty blade to sway.
Well-painting shows decay and drought,
Pool-dug saves gasping fish about.
Plantains hardly rot in swift decline,
Hibiscus briefly blooms, a fleeting sign.
Treasure realm leaves tales of old,
Golden coffin hides tracks untold.
Alms bowl passed down, agate warmed by flame,
Stone grows with lotus, emerald its name.
Canopy veil all fallen, bare and thin,
Rope bed half buried in earth within.
Wild woods confuse drunk elephants' stray,
Precipice bows to coiling dragons' way.
Travel's hue pities the crescent moon,
Returning path awaits dawn bell soon.
Though mind's source is lucid and clear,
The dusty world's turmoil draws near.
High voice repents under shade of night,
With fasting grain, we pound with might.
In future lives, should I come here once more,
I pray we meet again as before.