There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God.
For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
How much I desire! Inside my little satchel, the moon, and flowers
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