Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and you do not learn.
When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams.
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.