Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.