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Poems
Life is a dream,the years pass by like flowing waters.Glamour and glory are transient as autumn smoke;what tragedy--for with the sun set deeply in the west,still there are thoselost on paths of disillusionment.Our heart should be clear as ice.Forget all worldly nonsense.Sit calmly, breathe quietly, heart bright and spotless as anempty mirror.This is the path to the Buddha's table.
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