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.

In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger.

There is no stranger under the cherry tree.

Here I'm here- the snow falling.

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

Don't weep, insects -- Lovers, stars themselves, Must part.

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