Haiku

The raindrops patter on the bamboo leaf, but these are not tears of grief;

This is only the anguish of him who is listening to them.

The voice of the mountain torrent is from one great tongue;

The lines of the hills, are they not the Pure Body of Buddha?

It is like a sword that wounds, but cannot wound itself;

Like an eye that sees, but cannot see itself.

Words do not make a man understand;

You must get the man, to understand them.

To be able to trample upon the Great Void,

The iron cow must sweet.

It is like a tiger, but with many horns;

Like a cow, but it has no tail.

Meeting, the two friends laugh and laugh;

In the grove, fallen leaves are many.

The cock announces the dawn in the evening;

The sun is bright at midnight.

The voice of the fountain after midnight;

The colours of the hills at sunsetting.

The cries of the monkeys echo through the dense forest;

In the clear water, the wild geese are mirrored deep.

The wooden cock crows at midnight;

The straw dog barks at the clear day.

Mountains and rivers, the whole earth,

All manifest forth the essence of being.

The wind drops but the flowers still fall;

A bird sings, and the mountain holds yet more mystery.

All waters contain the moon;

Not a mountain but the clouds girdle it.

Entering the forest, he does not disturb a blade of grass;

Entering the water, he does not cause a ripple.

One word determines the whole world;

One sword pacifies heaven and hell.