In the evening of a thousand peaks, I close my eyes.
Among humans, myriad thoughts are trivial.
Serenely I sit on the mat.
In solitude I face an open window.
The incense has burned out and a dark night is long.
Dew is thick; my robe is thin.
Emerging from samadhi, I walk in the garden.
The moon has risen over the highest peak.
tr. Kazuaki Tanahashi