So on, sweep. So on, sweep.
Shan shui, Shan shui.
The rushing water passes by
Mountains reaching ever higher.
Down, down to my knees,
Buffing cloth wiping round, and round
Circles soft, glowing wood.
Floors beneath where I once stood.
Crawling now I recognize
My nothingness beneath these skies.
Songs of a nowhere dynasty
Engraved on the tomb of nobody.