Clearly I Know, The Mind Is Mountains,

In A Mind Clear As Still Water, Even The Waves, Breaking, Are Reflecting Its Light.

Your Body Is Like A Dew-drop On The Morning Grass, Your Life Is As Brief As A Flash Of Lightning. Momentary And Vain, It Is Lost In A Moment.

To Study Buddhism Is To Study Ourselves. To Study Ourselves Is To Forget Ourselves.

Yet, Though It Is Like This, Simply, Flowers Fall Amid Our Longing And Weeds Spring Up Amid Our Antipathy.

When You Walk In The Mist, You Get Wet.