by Atsuo Ouki

Do not say farewell, my friend,
Nor talk of everyday things,
Nor of life and death.
What will there be to say
At the farthermost ends of the sea?
Strike the great breast of one who offers his ardent blood,
Hold the full moon in your wine cup,
Drink and take strength for a while.
I am bound for Batavia,
You to conquer Bandung.
Though we part this evening,
Together let us see
The shining Southern Cross again some night.
Do not say farewell, my friend.
See how the clouds pass,
The clouds meet silently,
Where sky and water meet.

by Hakuin

At the north window, icy draughts whistle through the cracks,
At the south pond, wild geese huddle in snowy reeds.
Above, the mountain moon is pinched thin with cold,
Freezing clouds threaten to plunge from the sky.
Buddhas might descend to this world by the thousands,
They couldn't add or subtract one thing.