From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.

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.

Old pond, frog jumps in - plop.

Calm and serene The sound of a cicada Penetrates the rock.

Real poetry, is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.

The moon is brighter since the barn burned.

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.