Moss covers $(his)$ stone bed fresh—
How many springs did the master occupy $(it)$?
They sketched to preserve $(his)$ form practicing the Way,
But burned away the body that sat in meditation.
The pagoda garden closes in snow on the pines,
$(While)$ the library locks dust in the chinks.
I hate myself for these lines of rears falling—
I am not a man who understands the Void.