A New Grave
Beneath the newly risen mound of yellow earth lies a person,
No matter what kind of person,
They were born from nothingness,
And return to nothingness.
What a beautiful process it is,
Light and airy, like mist, like wind, like air,
Drifting around the earth for a moment before disappearing.
From now on, there will be no more anxiety,
No more sorrow, anger, pain, or distress,
No more burdens, no more troubles.
He came from the soil, and returns to the soil.
Hereafter, the vast sky will be his roof,
The thick layer of fresh soil, his quilt,
The stars in the sky, his eyes,
The gentle breeze, his song.
Hereafter, the birds will sing for him,
The rain will play music for him,
The clouds will dance for him,
The thunder will applaud for him.
He watches sunrises and sunsets during the day,
Listens to the clear wind and bright moon at night.
He lives peacefully and smilingly beneath the nine springs,
Far removed from the heavy life he once led among the noisy human world.
In many people's eyes, death is destruction, it's inauspicious. But is it really so? For a person suffering from a long-term incurable illness, tormented by pain every day, what does death mean to them? It means liberation, it means rest, it means no longer enduring the torment of the disease. For someone driven insane by pressure, what does death mean? It means letting go, it means ease. For someone in extreme mental anguish, contemplating suicide, what does death mean to them? It means liberation, it means peace. Who says that death is not good?