English Rendering
A quiet house, with scarcely a neighbor near;
A path through grasses to a garden left to sere.
Birds in the trees beside the pool are now at rest;
A monk knocks at the door, under the moon’s pale crest.
I cross the little bridge — the land’s wide hue I share;
I move a stone — the very roots of clouds stir there.
I go, but I shall come again. This be our vow,
Kept in the heart’s deep silence, as I leave you now.
