Just washed, How chill The white leeks!
An autumn night - don’t think your life didn’t matter.
Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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.
Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.
I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.