Go to the object. Leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Do not impose yourself on the object. Become one with the object. Plunge deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there.

Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps' nest.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

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

For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.

On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening

With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.