Worldly affairs pass slowly by,
Incomparable to the mountains and hills,
Lying under wisteria vines,
With a stone for my pillow.
No audience with the Son of Heaven,
Why envy princes and nobles?
No worries about life and death,
What further distress could there be?

One room,
one quilt,
one jar,
one bowl.
Enough.

The path
winds down
to the village but
I don’t even know
what the houses look like.

 With realization, all things are of one family; 
 Without realization, everything is separate and different; 
 Without realization, all things are of one family; 
 With realization, everything is separate and different 

 Searching for fame and gain
 keeps everyone restlessly busy
 but in the sun’s warmth 
 and a peaceful breeze
 everything is naturally new.
 
 Without help from anyone
 the spring’s brightness 
 is both pale and deep.
 
 In the mountains
 of boundless peace
 someone sits, alone. 

This is my resting place,
Kanzan knows the best retreats;
The breeze blows through the pines,
Sounding better the nearer it is.
 
 Under a tree I'm reading
 Lao-tzu, quietly perusing.
 Ten years not returning,
 I forgot the way I had come. 

Watching the moon
at dawn,
solitary, mid-sky,
I knew myself completely:
no part left out.

When the sky clears, the sun appears; 
When the rain falls, the earth is wet. 
With all one’s heart, one has preached everything, 
But I fear nobody can believe it. 

Eyes shut,
mouth open.
Eyes open,
mouth shut,

Eyes and mouth
open and open.
They say,

“Shivering of plum blossoms
on black branch
shakes loose spring
in bright snow.”

Under the trees,
welcoming spring.
Things take care of themselves.

A monk looks weird
to the common folk.

The Teaching of this New Year
is not outside the mind.

Filling the eye,
blue, blue mountains
in all directions.