I like the mention of polishing the path and the Pure Land, both very evocative.
Master Wôlmyông (c. 742-765)
Requiem for the Dead Sister
On the hard road of life and death
That is near our land,
You went, afraid,
We know not where we go
Leaves blown, scattered,
Though fallen from the same tree,
By the first winds of autumn.
Ah, I will polish the path
Until I meet you in the Pure Land.