浮生无色，不味道来。

一横启命，

一捺幸运，

一折生花。

几痕浓淡，方寸之间。

万千微尘，经纬天衣。

《Colorless commandment》

By Yu Shiyi  

Life is like pale ink—what we savor is neither its hue nor its flavor.  

A stroke horizontal, a dot sweeping, a turn of the brush—each blooms like the flower of human fate.  

No matter how faint or deep the ink spreads upon the page, it remains forever within that inch of space.  

Wisdom is but countless motes of dust in union, weaving a garment vast enough to shroud heaven and earth.