In Wintry Manchuria's snow covered ground,
Ice slivers glimmer on lakes all around.
Flocks of geese fly to the south in a flurry,
Past pale frosted panes in a lone monastery.
Symbol by symbol, creating each word
An old monk writes out a Sutra that he heard.
The universe flows thru his hand with its power,
Commanding the birth of the sweet Dharma Flower.
Cleansing his brush in the cold, icy room,
The water-filled tip freezes into a lotus bloom.
The lotus grows larger, the room glows with light.
The Ice-Lotus Monk is (said to be) enlightened on this night.
Now all of the faithful, who seek and pray
Know the writing of Sutras — the true sage's way.