Ching Ch'ing, a Chinese Ch'an master, asked a monk:
-What is the sound outside?
The monk answered:
-That is the sound of rain.
The master said:
-Sentient beings are upside down, they lose themselves in pursuit of things.
Mounting the bull, slowly I return homeward.
The voice of my flute intones through the evening.
Measuring with hand-beats the pulsating harmony, I direct the endless rhythm.
Whoever hears this melody will join me.
Comment: This struggle is over; gain and loss are assimilated. I sing the song of the village woodsman, and play the tunes of the children. Astride the bull, I observe the clouds above. Onward I go, no matter who may wish to call me back.