I. Searching for the Ox Alone in the wilderness, lost in the jungle, the child is searching, searching! The swelling waters, the far-away mountains, and the unending path; Exhausted and in despair, knowimg not where to go, Only hearing the evening cicadas singing in the maple-woods. Where does the dear child go from here? She follows her heart, to freedom's shore, right? II. Seeing the Traces By the stream and under the trees, scattered are the traces of the lost; The sweet-scented grasses are growing thick -- did she find the way? However remote over the hills and far away the beast may wander, it's nose reaches the heavens and none can conceal it. III. Seeing the Ox On a yonder branch perches a nightengale cheerfully singing; The sun is warm, and a soothing breeze blows on On the bank the willows are green; The ox is there all by himself, nowhere is he to hide himself; The splendid head decorated with stately horns like a duplicatous Unicorn \-- what painter can reproduce him? IV. Catching the Ox With all the energy the child can muster she has at last taken hold of the ox: But how wild his will, how ungovernable his power! At times he struts up a plateau, When Lo! he is lost again in a misty unpenetrable mountain-pass. This ox is hard to herd or follow. V. Herding the Ox Now the child may seek to herd the Ox, but if she uses the whip and tether she will only succeed to separate herself with from him with that whip and tether, and cause the animal to wander away again and she will fall again into a world of defilements; BUT!, When the ox is properly tended to, with appropriate attention and love he will grow pure and docile; Without a chain, nothing binding, he will by himself be her leader and her guide and her follower Nothing could be stronger than this boundless binding Nothing could surpass its wondrousness Nothing else could touch her heart like this VI. Coming Home on the Ox's Back Riding on the Ox's back, they leisurely wend their way home; Enveloped in the evening mist, how tunefully the beautiful flute notes vanish away into the utter stillness of vanquished time Singing a ditty, beating time, her dear heart filled with joy indescribably! That she is now one of those who know, need it be told?