Who could be so lucky? Who comes to a lake for water and sees the reflection of moon.

Drink from the presence of saints, not from those other jars.

Journey from the self to the Self and find the mine of gold. Leave behind what is sour and bitter and move toward the sweet.

The fluteplayer puts breath into a flute, and who makes the music? Not the flute. The Fluteplayer!

Nightingales are put in cages because their songs give pleasure. Whoever heard of keeping a crow?

If these poems repeat themselves, then so does Spring.

Give yourself a kiss. If you want to hold the beautiful one, hold yourself.