Lucy Grossmith
.
On the hard road of life and deathThat is near our land,
You went, afraid,
Without words.
We know not where we go
Leaves blown, scattered,
Though fallen from the same tree,
By the first winds of autumn.
Ah, I will polish the path
Until I meet you in the Pure Land.—Master Ch'undam(Korean, 742-765)
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