Mountain home sleeping
No dreams of dust.
Three robes are plenty;
Who says I’m poor?
One for my pillow,
One to serve as a mat,
And at the thunder of my snoring
Heaven and Earth disappear.
Mountain home sleeping
No dreams of dust.
Three robes are plenty;
Who says I’m poor?
One for my pillow,
One to serve as a mat,
And at the thunder of my snoring
Heaven and Earth disappear.