Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
Learn how to listen as things speak for themselves.
The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.
Do not resemble me-Never be like a musk melon Cut in two identical halves.
Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.