In the depth of a forest there lies a temple Its bell sings sometimes when the wind blows And the admirer is a lotus flower, colorful as a painting Which sits on a leafy chair and sees all wearing a radiant fare

No being or mind to know her moods , sometime singing sometime brood It has manners of a bard and I have seen bees with her playing cards Like a nymph queen she appears in the palace of water wearing pearls of droplets she becomes a maiden of a lost lad in the disguise of red as life

At the sunset I see it has become a luminous saint , lost in mediation There is no participation , reaction or any temptation