A Wish To go to Heaven is The very beginning of Falling into hell. If you grasp The heart of this sutra, Youíll know the voices Of merchants and customers Preach the Dharma. Never regard this world as The only one; The next world And the one after the next... All the worlds are here now. Everything Changing In this floating world. One thing staying the same: Death. Reverence is The source of divine favors; Without it, Buddhas and wooden clogs are Only pieces of wood. Your parents, Grandparents... All constituted in Yourself. Love Yourself, Revere Yourself. Be careful Every minute, reminding yourself: One momentís Carelessness may cause A thousand-mile difference. Both the noble And the humble Become smoke Of One Color Over Toribe Hill. Iíve caught you, Amitabha Buddha, I Wonít let you go. Hey, come along with me Down to hell. What is this seed, a mustard Or a poppy? Itís hard to tell Which is which. But when fully grown, The flowers will tell. Everything is A lie in this world Because even Death Isnít so. The best Defense Against a thief is Not a six-foot rod, But poverty. What peace it is Going to the shrine with Nothing to pray for! Better making money in trade Cheerfully clapping These two hands Than listening to Hakuinís One-handed clapping. Desire, regret, Hatred, affection, Once rid of them all, This world is Yours. Our illusions are The beginning of Satori; See how sour grapes Become sweet raisins. I am Originally ďNothingĒ And timeless; Nowhere to go Even after death. If illusion is a dream. Satori is also a dream: Awakening from a dream Is the beginning of life. You may try to be round, But keep one corner, O mind, Otherwise youíll Slip and roll away. Although you keep A jewel within yourself, Nobody will notice it Unless you Polish and brighten it. This is this, That is that, Everything as it is: A pine tree is green, A flower is red. That one really Looks innocent; Commits secret sins-- But innocently. The plum blossoms in The basement emit fragrance; Secret love will Speak for itself. The garden bamboos Reveal The windís invisible form: Movement of shadows In the moonlight. Give a damn! Once Iíve been beaten, Iíll drink poison, Eat the saucer. The mountain manís Wood box is raw And unlacquered: Nowhere is it Faded or discolored. Itís only an illusion, Nothing much, I know; but to Me, unenlightened one, ďCome on, honey!Ē It looks as if weíre Talking about a dream, half asleep, On a night of dreams During the intervals of Dozing... I fear nothing In this world But a leaking roof, A fool, And debt. Our mind is like A puppet show: When a devil Pushes itself forward, A Buddha will hide. Thereís no company On this Birth-and-death road; Itís a lonely way, Alone coming, alone going. Young people, If you care for your life, Kill your self! Once done, Youíre deathless. Young men these days are Weak: he says, tottering, Staggering, an old man of Those-were-the-days. A farewell: Why does everyone Grieve? Thereís no parting From the very beginning. There are many different Paths running up To the mountaintop, But everyone sees The same moon on the peak. A womanís tongue, Three inches long, Rules over men, Six feet tall. No me, No others at all, only The huge void sky: Oneness, Just oneness. You and I, At each breath Draw nearer on The way to hell, or To Amitabhaís Pure Land.