Who knows when we meet again.
Maybe in years,
Maybe never.
So let us take a piece of clay,
From moisten, to be molded,
And let's make a picture of yourself
is a picture of me.
frantumiamole Then, rompiamole,
And with a drop of water
Mescoliamole together.
And we reform the clay
My image and your image.
So in my clay there will be a little about yourself,
And in your clay a little for me.
And nothing will separate us again.
alive, we will be forever in each others hearts
And from the dead, we buried together.
(Madame Kuan, Bruce Lee papers)
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