Autumn wind of eve,
Blow away the clouds that mass
Over the moon’s pure light.
And the mists that cloud our mind,
Will thou sweep them away as well?
Now we disappear…
Well, what must we think of it?
From the sky we came,
Now we may go back again.
That’s at least one point of view.
Like a rotten log half-buried in the ground—
My life, which has not yet flowered, comes to this sad end.
Had I not known that I was dead already,
I would have mourned my loss of life.
Both the victor and the vanquished 
Are but drops of dew and lightning—
Thus should we view the world

Holding fourth this sword, I cut vacuity in twain;
In the midst of the great fire,
A stream of refreshing breeze.
Shall depression subdue a man like me?
I shall be born again and then I’ll cut away the darkness
Whether one passes on or remains is all the same.
That you can take now one is the only difference.
Ah, how pleasant! Two awakenings and one sleep.
This dream of a fleeing world! The roseate hues of early dawn!
My life came like dew—disappears like dew
All that we seem is but a dream within a dream
Even a life-long prosperity is but one cup of sake;
A life of eighteen years is passed in a dream.
I know not what life is nor death
Year in and year out—all but a dream
Both Heaven and Hell are left behind…
I stand in the moonlit dawn, free from clouds of attachment.