Come, See The True Flowers Of This

How I Long To See Among Dawn Flowers, The Face Of God.

Around Existence Twine, (oh, Bridge That Hangs Across The Gorge!) Ropes Of Twisted Vine.

Farewell, My Old Fan. / Having Scribbled On It, / What Could I Do But Tear It / At The End Of Summer?

Don't Imitate Me / We Are Not Two Halves / Of A Muskmelon.

There Is Nothing You Can See That Is Not A Flower; There Is Nothing You Can Think That Is Not The Moon.