In emptiness, forms are born. When one becomes empty of the assumptions, inferences, and judgments he has acquired over the years, he comes close to his original nature and is capable of conceiving original ideas and reacting freshly.
Do you get an effect of simplicity from this haiku by Boncho?
Life seems extinct, swallowed up by the inanimate snow crystals. The river is not a live, flowing, purling stream but a painted simulacrum. How much stiller can you get? Here is the stillness of nonlife. Emptiness. A piece of calligraphy—one black curving line on white. Yet we know that deep beneath the white snow and black ice, life is potential. And beneath the quiet stillness of a person's sitting lies the potential of vigorous, creative action. But now is the time of quiet, of rest, of recouping of forces, of one-pointedness rather than diversity of action. Of simplicity in its essence. Of emptiness from which will come many new forms.
And, if Buson's dialogue is not simple enough for you, consider his camellia:
A camellia dropped down
Into the water
Of a still, dark well.