My journey began in spring
when my heart prayed for salvation.
I decided to enter the Buddhist Temple
where Li Cheng lives a pure life.
All summer I trudged wet roads,
leaving villages and memories behind.
By autumn I reached the foot hills
and labored upward
as colored leaves swirled down.
Breathless, I looked up and saw
peak against peak against peak
and the narrow road disappearing
into mist and snow.
Now, at the beginning of winter,
I have reached Li Cheng's Temple.
Barren winds have stripped the trees.
Green trees have become thorn trees.
They are skeletons clinging to dead rock,
their branches are the shattered bones.
The Temple rises, in its dark beauty,
from a nearby summit. A stone slab
marks the memory of my friend.
I cry with the ten thousand things.
Daniel Brick
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/buddhist-temple-in-the-mountains/
