In spring, a hundred flowers, in autumn, the moon, In summer, the breeze, in winter, snow. If idle worries not thy mind, All times are good for thee to find. Good is the pine, evil is the flower, Yet in thy sight, they hold no power. One day, frost may strike, Only the pine remains in sight. No anger on thy face, a tribute true, No anger in thy words, a fragrance new. No anger in thy heart, a treasure rare, Unending, undying, truly fair. Seek not the Buddha in distant lands, For in thy heart, the holy mountain stands. Each man has his own holy tower, Beneath which he may seek his power.