For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
First snow-falling-on the half-finished bridge.
Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
The old pond, ah! A frog jumps in: The water's sound.
This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.
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.