In a beautiful morning of winter I asked the soothing rays of sun,
From where do you come from?
They said from the eternity
In a beautiful morning of winter I asked a smiling orange rose.
From where do you come from?
He said from the eternity.
In a beautiful morning of winter I asked the singing breeze,
From where does your song come from?
She said from the eternity.
In the beautiful morning of winter I asked from a smiling child,
From where does your smile come from?
He said from the eternity.
In the beautiful morning of winter I asked Lord Buddha
From where does your grace come from?
He said from the eternity
The rose may die in dust the Buddha may be gone forever
But the new ways will search always to express itself eternity.......