Old pond, frog jumps in - plop.
The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
Just washed, How chill The white leeks!
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
Don't imitate me / we are not two halves / of a muskmelon.