Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.

The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.

Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.

Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate

The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.

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

Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.