To the fuki plant, dandelions, and their kind that lie for long patiently under the fallen snow, comes the season of breezy spring. No sooner do they see the light of the world, stretching their longing heads out from the cracks in the snow, than they are instantly nipped off. For these plants isn't the sorrow as deep as that of the child's parents whose child had accidentally died? They say everything in the plant and tree kingdom attains Buddhahood. Then they, too, must have Buddha-nature.

before the gate -- my walking stick's made a river of melting snow

Reflected in the dragonfly's eye -- mountains.

Even with insects - some can sing, some can't.

Arise from sleep, old cat, And with great yawns and stretchings... Amble out for love

Where there are humans, You'll find flies, And Buddhas.

Not gifted with genius but honestly holding his experiences deep in his heart, he kept his simplicity and humanity.