Sadly, I Part From You; Like A

When Your Consciousness Has Become Ripe In True Zazen-pure Like Clear Water, Like A Serene Mountain Lake, Not Moved By Any Wind-then Anything May Serve As A Medium For Realization.

The Journey Itself Is My Home.

O Cricket From Your Cherry Cry No One Would Ever Guess How Quickly You Must Die.

I Hope To Have Gathered To Repay Your Kindness The Willow Leaves Scattered In The Garden.

Come, See The True Flowers Of This Pained World.