Amidst the still of the night,
I was Zhuang Zhou.
Flying with butterflies so bright
On the Moon, reverse side.
My eyes was differently quiet,
I saw colors, that I could not hear.
In cosmos, only white and black explore
The way of separation of the Universe.
Reached the point of totally emptiness,
Where Nonexistence gives birth to itself
Every second. Nonexistence fleeing back
To itself every second, is dying itself.
Butterflies soar among two mountains,
Ñovered with spring flowers.
The mountains reach out to each other, But they are alone
In the infinite silence of space.
As I flew in void so free,
Realized that all I thought I knew
Was nothing, but a dream of the wind,
Pollen from wings, a mere illusion,
Beyond the limits of the skies and end of earth.