ONE WHO RISES,
RISES OF HIMSELF,
ONE WHO FALLS,
FALLS FROM HIMSELF.
AUTUMN DEW, SPRING BREEZE —
NOTHING CAN POSSIBLY INTERFERE.

REMAIN APART,
THE WORLD IS YOURS —
A BUDDHA IN THE FLESH.

THE FLUTE WITHOUT HOLES
IS THE MOST DIFFICULT TO BLOW.

CICADA — DID IT
CHIRP TILL IT
KNEW NOTHING ELSE ?

FIRST FROST.
MY WAY LIES NORTHEAST
FACING THE STARS.

A WINTRY GUST
DISAPPEARS AMID THE BAMBOOS
AND SUBSIDES TO A CALM.

THE MIND CANNOT
BECOME THE BUDDHA;
THE BODY CANNOT
BECOME THE BUDDHA.
ONLY WHAT CANNOT BECOME THE BUDDHA
CAN BECOME THE BUDDHA.

BUTTERFLIES SETTING OUT
TO CROSS THE SEA,
HAVE DISAPPEARED:
MY SELF COMES BACK TO ME.

DON'T ASK WHY THE PINE TREES
IN THE FRONT GARDEN
ARE GNARLED AND CROOKED.
THE STRAIGHTNESS
THEY WERE BORN WITH
IS RIGHT THERE INSIDE THEM.

IF YOU WISH TO KNOW THE ROAD
UP THE MOUNTAIN,
YOU MUST ASK THE MAN WHO GOES BACK AND FORTH ON IT.

IN MY TEN - FOOT BAMBOO HUT
THIS SPRING,
THERE IS NOTHING:
THERE IS EVERYTHING.

IN THE BOTTOMLESS BAMBOO BASKET I PUT THE WHITE MOON.
IN THE BOWL OF MINDLESSNESS
I STORE THE PURE BREEZE.

THE MOON IN THE WATER;
BROKEN AND BROKEN AGAIN,
STILL IT IS THERE.

ENTERING THE FOREST,
HE MOVES NOT THE GRASS.
ENTERING THE WATER,
HE MAKES NOT A RIPPLE.

THE MOUTH DESIRES TO SPEAK,
BUT THE WORDS DISAPPEAR;
THE HEART DESIRES TO
ASSOCIATE ITSELF,
BUT THE THOUGHTS FADE AWAY.

ANCIENT POND.
A FROG JUMPS, A GREAT SILENCE.

THOUSANDS YEARS OLD TREE.
GOING THROUGH COUNTLESS SUN AND MOON.
YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW,
IS ALL EMPTINESS.
IF YOU REALIZE THIS
EVERY MOMENT IS FULL AND JOYFUL.

MIDNIGHT. NO WAVES, NO WIND.
THE EMPTY BOAT
IS FLOODED WITH MOONLIGHT.

THE TEMPLE BELL STOPS.
BUT THE SOUND KEEPS COMING
OUT OF THE FLOWERS.

BIG AND BRIGHT THE MOON.
I'VE WALKED AND WALKED,
BUT HEAVEN REMAINS UNMOVING.

A SINGLE PETAL
OF THE CHERRY BLOSSOM FELL.
MOUNTAIN SILENCE.

WINTER WELL.
A BUCKET FULL
OF STARLIGHT.

WIND IN THE WEST,
FALLEN LEAVES
GATHERING IN THE EAST.

BUDDHA LAW.
SHINING IN A LEAF DEW.