Learn of the pine from the pine, and of the bamboo from the bamboo. To do so you must leave behind the self, and enter into the object, until its hidden glimmering shows itself and a poem forms of its own accord.
Even in Kyoto — hearing the cuckoo's cry — I long for Kyoto.
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die.
Omar Khayyam·1120A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, / A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou / Beside me singing in the Wilderness — / Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Confucius·500 BCEThe Master, standing by a stream, said: "It passes on just like this, not ceasing day or night."
William Blake·1794Ah! Sun-flower, weary of time, / Who countest the steps of the Sun, / Seeking after that sweet golden clime / Where the traveller's journey is done.
