法苑珠林 36.10

36.10

The jewelled spire catches the high dew;
The fine patterned silks mirror the empty sky.
Winding and turning, fluttering among the clouds,
Inverted, they resemble red lotuses.
Rosy-cloud banners unfurl brocade hues;
Their fragrance blends with the censer's smoke.
Drifting without a fixed resting place,
Only because their nature is light and spinning.
The pond shines, reflecting myriad images;
The springs play, sparkling with a hundred fresh blooms.
Day and night, the wind blows and stirs them;
Multiplying causes for the rank of a cakravartin.
Looking up without ever tiring,
Joining companions, moved to linger on.
Who knew that patterns among the colors
Could invite blessings and long extend life?