With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
From the pine tree, learn of the pine tree; And from the bamboo, of the bamboo
From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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.
Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
Don't imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.