A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.

I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.

Operating superficially, the mind is random in its activity and stale in its insights and images. However, with practice and experience the mind is freed from the skull, and the fresh and new can appear as though for the first time. It

No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.

Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things-mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity-and enjoy the falling blossoms and the scattering leaves.