Listening to the silent sound
Of the moss-covered stream
I feel myself grow as calm and transparent
As the soundless sound of the covered current!
Living alone in the woods
Where few visitors cast shadows
How clean and clear I find the moon
Beaming so quiet in the blue!
Each maple leaf,
Fluttering away,
One and all,
Showing its face and back.
Could the pine trees speak
Standing on the hill at dusk
I would ask of them
The things of the by gone days
How desolate my life here is!
But how transparent my mind is
Just as I spend each day
As it comes and goes!
In the world of dreams
I’ve been dreaming on and on
And upon waking up
How loneliness pierces me
My sleeves are wet with tears
Brooding on the ups and downs
Of which so full is the world
As it goes shifting on and on!
In the world
Things appearing to exist
Will pass away one by one
How long should I remain lamenting!
If one asks
What goes on inside this monk
Pray answer as follows;
“Nothing but what a passing wind whispers.”
