Along my journey / through this transitory world, / new year's housecleaning.
All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps' nest.
Sadly, I part from you; Like a clam torn from its shell, I go, and autumn too.
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
Go to the object. Leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Do not impose yourself on the object. Become one with the object. Plunge deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there.