Calm And Serene The Sound

My Body, Now Close To Fifty Years Of Age, Has Become An Old Tree That Bears Bitter Peaches, A Snail Which Has Lost Its Shell, A Bagworm Separated From Its Bag; It Drifts With The Winds And Clouds That Know No Destination. Morning And Night I Have Eaten Traveler's Fare, And Have Held Out For Alms A Pilgrim's Wallet.

Without Bitterest Cold That Penetrates To The Very Bone, How Can Plum Blossoms Send Forth Their Fragrance All Over The World?

The Journey Itself Is My Home.

Breaking The Silence Of An Ancient Pond, A Frog Jumped Into Water - A Deep Resonance.

Seek Not The Paths Of The Ancients; Seek That Which The Ancients Sought.