"When the thundering storm cloud roars out in the mist, And torrents of rain fill the paths of the birds, Nestled in a mountain cave, the monk meditates. — No greater contentment than this can be found..." 1/2
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"...When along the rivers the tumbling flowers bloom In winding wreaths adorned with verdant color, Seated on the bank, glad-minded, he meditates. — No greater contentment than this can be found." 2/2 —Bhūta Thera (Theragāthā 522-523)
12:36 PM - 10 Dec 2019
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