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.

Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die

Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto

When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.

When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.

Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.

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