This man has chosen to live much

In the open: to bask in the sunlight

And to watch the evening glowing,

To feel the touch of the morning dew

And to smell the fragrance of freshly

Cut grasses lying on the moist earth.

Through his essays and writings,

Through the poetry of habits of life,

Through the duly numbered symbols,

Through the images, figures and

The verbal signs he has learnt well

To refresh himself and to fill in, alas,

Too often wounded heart. In a word,

He’s managed to reach grand old age

In the same way as every sage does

By living so much time in the open

And having a great deal of sunlight,

The prana routine amid snowy peaks

Beyond the clouds and above birds

He has tarried on for a long time now.