I live quietly with other temple monks,
Get up at dawn to chant Namu.
The valley stream transcends clamor and stillness,
Mountain clouds know nothing
Of being or nonbeing.
Room a half a span wide,
Empty enough to hang a bell in;
Gruel in a gourd bowl
That might be left dangling.
And since I came here, what have I done?
Bathed in the Yi, enjoyed the breeze
In the rain altars.