Mi Dou: Que Qiao Xian

The Six Paths crumble, the Other Shore Flower withers, are gods and Buddhas worthy of worship?

The soul-reaping chains are no more, where to go to do evil?

Dry bones as firewood, fangs as chopsticks, devouring the soul sea of humanity.

Turning back, the shore of return is nowhere to be seen, the Three Lives Stone, severing the lifeline of humanity.

pluto

Mountains and rivers as bowls, sorrows and joys as wine, who has ever glimpsed the past?

Dry bones come to life, death is terrifying, who will save the common people from this inverted illusion?

Life and death, death and life, why bother with reincarnation, when will the lotus fall if the butcher's knife is not seen?

Return, return, return, why mention false illusions?

.: Que Qiao Xian - Contemplating Zen

Piles of withered bones, blood stagnating into a sea, asking if this world is worth seeing.

Not asking about worldly affairs, guarding the temple, one battle is not as good as contemplating Zen.

Reincarnation collapses, doomsday is imminent, who cares about right and wrong, regrets and grievances?

A lifetime has already been a difficult fall into demonic ways, sighing, turning back is the shore.

Arc Light Gongzi: Qing Yu An - Requiem

Buddha lies drunk on the road to the Yellow Springs, one laugh, three lifetimes cry.

Blood stains the world, and people are like livestock.

Strumming the zither across the river, souls fly and spirits scatter, a song that gnaws on withered bones.

The biting cold light is like a red sugar rain, demons in prison dance away like immortals.

Frozen bones and burned corpses are difficult to save themselves.

The Other Shore is like a neck, one string seals the throat, looking back at where we came from.

Are there any other big shots who want to compose poetry? Please feel free to do so.