Classic Poem

I bow before the buddhas
Whom I draw with my mind's brush.
O this body of mine,
Reach the end of the dharma realm.

Every mote of dust is a Buddha land.
Every Buddha realm worships the buddhas
Who fill the dharma realm—
I will worship them throughout the nine time periods.

Ah, untiring in the deeds of body, speech, thought—
I have made this my credo.