The Spring afternoon so quiet, I sat burning incense
Shaggy dogs in their dreams while spiders busy webbing
From somewhere sounds of cuckoos came over mountains
 
With warm sun on my back, while I read Vimalakirti Sutra
Soft flying flower petals fall on letters covering them
What good will it do trying to read letters beneath flower petals?

Weaving silken cloth of bamboo thread with pine needles as my needle
I shall make a suit embroidered all blue of all ages
And when the time is right, I shall present it to my Buddha.

   A poem engraved upon a memorial stone raised at Tapgol Park in Seoul