City of Zurich – Funeral Service – Zen Master – O soul, to take root and grow on your grave!

Prayer and Meditation

A little pine tree grows green where, who knows, in the forest, a rosebush, who says in which garden? They are exquisite already, think it, O soul, to take root and grow on your grave. Two little black horses graze in the meadow, they return home to the city in lively leaps. They will walk step by step with your corpse. Perhaps, perhaps before the iron I see flashing gets rid of their hooves!

Yes, she was beautiful, if one can call the night beautiful in the chapel, whose cold marble splendor the day's brightness can never penetrate. Yes, she was good, if it is enough to hand out alms in haste, as happens to happen, and without pity. She thought - if we burst out at the sound of a soft voice. Monotonous like the fall of the brook, should already believe in thoughts.

Funeral Service - City of Zurich - Zen Master

She prayed when prayer means. That two beautiful stars in the eyes sometimes sink down as if orphaned, sometimes rise to the distant heavens. She would have smiled - if the scent of flowers never opened up. Could spill into the air that quickly forgets what they enjoyed. She would have wept if only the tiniest trace of heavenly dew had remained in her to form a tear in the clay of the earth. She would have loved if not for her pride - like the candlelight burned uselessly on her deathbed.

Her rigid heart would have guarded. She died and had never lived. she was only a shadow, not a being. the book in which she has read nothing trembles from her hand to the ground. Your picture is in my heart, your name resounds through my songs, despite death and separation near me, loving me gently to your grave. Because the pure harmony of two souls never separates even death's shrill discord.