Meditating on the snowy mountain cliff, catching the endless white

Snowflakes weave into a thin garment, wrapping the bones of Jia Mu
There is no cold, only a velvety silence
Like the breath before the earth sleeps

Sunlight slants across the brow
Warm, not scorching, but a gentle kiss
Kissing away the wrinkles between the brows
And the coolness of snow, reaching an understanding on the skin
—Inner and outer peace, this is the moment of Zen

Clouds and mist flow beneath my feet
Distant mountains fade into outlines, the earth shrinks into a speck of dust
I sit within the folds of heaven and earth
Lips slightly parted, Sanskrit sounds like a spring
Unhurried, flowing over ice ridges, winding through rock crevices

Sound has no boundaries
When it hits the snowy mountain, it transforms into the echo of pine waves
Spreading into clouds and mist, it becomes an invisible sutra
I, along with this cliff, this snow, this light
Melt into the ripples of Sanskrit sounds
—Smallness is greatness, silence is completeness