Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
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.
How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers
Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.