When Shoun was old he knew his end was approaching. He asked his disciples to gather around him in the morning, telling them he was going to pass on at noon. 

Burning incense before the picture of his mother and his old teacher, he wrote a poem:

For fifty-six years I lived as best I could,

Making my way in this world.

Now the rain has ended, the clouds are clearing,

The blue sky has a full moon.

His disciples gathered around him, reciting sutra, and Shoun passed on during the invocation.