The Nectar River in the morning is like
A large group of soldiers and horses, running and leaping,
Overflowing with endless life and joy.
The Nectar River at noon is like
The melodies of stringed instruments and songs,
Softly whispering its love,
Expressing endless good wishes and longing.
The Nectar River in the evening is like
A lost child, crying and sobbing.
Wiping tears,
Wondering when it will be able to cuddle again
By Your Feet.
By Fellow Initiate Rose, U.K. (Originally In English)
When You slip into despair,
May Your Father cradle Your heart.
When You feel broken,
May His tender gaze reveal itself.
When You cry as a child,
May He turn the tears to nectar on Your tongue.
In Your loneliness,
May He crack the brittle pain
To become golden rain on Your face.
When You sleep, may You one day wake
To find we have become worthy.
Remark: This poem is dedicated to Master
by a fellow practitioner,
who was deeply grieved to observe Master silently shouldering numerous,
untold agonies and pressures, just to save sentient beings.