When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.
The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers
Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.