苦雨浸透着燃火的干柴堆。
Bitter rain soaks the pile of kindling twigs.
夜如此般冷静灯火难再随。
The night so cold and still the lamp flame hardly moves.
浓云密雾围湿了石墙小屋。
Clouds condense and drench our stone walled hut.
门前芦苇小已碎草铺阻。
Broken rushes clog the reed gate's way.
溪水汩汩，急流追。
The stream gurgles, a torrent in its bed.
闻此声声。难寻，人语回……
That's all we hear. Only rarely, comes a human voice...
啊，谱满心中的宁静最是珍贵，
But oh, how priceless is this peace of mind that fills us
如同再披上禅服冥心坐跪！
As we sit on our heels and put on another Chan monk's robe!
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