Seeking out the Dharma in India, I crossed the sea arriving here,
Climbing the mountain and suffering cold with much hardship and few pleasures.
No thoughts of being a renunciate or layman – flower and leaf are of the same trunk.
Monk, nun, freeman and slave – in the void there are no differences.
The words of masters perfume the mind – mindful of Buddha, becoming Buddha.
Palms together, smiling faces – though it is cold, hearts are warm.
Seeing the snowy mountain peaks, I think of the skies back home.