Dreams are long here in this wild
and forlorn desolation.
I have become too languid to care about
success or failure, about past and present,
Or how many bunches of grass I have pulled
and bouquets of flowers I have picked.
The bitter rain and biting wind
almost break my heart.
I flit in and out with the fireflies during
the dark of the night.
My shadow of a form I hide
when cocks crow at first light.
My only regret is not having cultivated
the mind-ground from the start.
Hence my fall into the realm of phantoms.
Oh, the tears roll down my face.
After the ghost sang the poem the Great Master Hui Ming taught the Dharma for him. As a result the former scholar-ghost left his realm and was reborn in a higher one.