There’s hidden sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness.
We are lutes, no more, no less.
When the sound box is filled, no music comes forth.
When the brain and the belly burn from fasting,
every moment a new song rises out of the fire.
The mists clear, and a new vitality makes you
spring up the steps before you.
Be empty and cry as a reed instrument.
Be empty and write secrets with a reed pen.
When satiated by food and drink,
an unsightly metal statue is seated
where your spirit should be.
When you fast, good habits gather
like friends who want to help.