Mountain-rose petals Falling, falling, falling now... Waterfall music
Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice
With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
From the pine tree, learn of the pine tree; And from the bamboo, of the bamboo