Poems of Meng Jiao
Resting on Wei River, gazing at the Hall of Eternal Law
Aware of surroundings, time passes quickly.
But peaceful understanding extends the years.
I feel sorry for the ordinary travelers
Taking temporary shelter in that empty hall.
A lonely candle yields to the dawn
Yet tattered curtains hold back the daylight.
High monks amass pure practice
As outer things lose permanence.
I know a laurel tree below the cliffs which is
Only valued for its fragrance in the stove.
But I don't begrudge its blue-green beauty,
Like yours, with its rising fragrance.
Wei River's color is unsullied
Where the Bian's is but a churn of mud.
But the mind will be like shining colored glass
With peace sewn from the Lotus Sutra.
Tomorrow, I return to my lonely work
And all my sad old troubles will come again.
The only question here is in line 12. Who is it that has the rising fragrance? The monks? The Hall of the Holy Law? The Wei River? His wife beside him in the boat? All are possible.