Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams.
An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
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.
I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.