Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
Old pond, frog jumps in - plop.
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.
With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.