Saturday, February 16, 2019
Written In My Hermitage
On A Snowy Evening
For more than seventy years, I have been making
Myself dizzy observing men.
I have abandoned trying to penetrate men's good and bad actions.
Coming and going is a sign of weakness.
Heavy snow in the dead of night —
Under the weather-beaten window, once incense stick.
Light rain — the mountain forest is wrapped in mist.
Slowly the fog changes to clouds and haze.
Along the boundless river bank, many crows.
I walk to a hill overlooking the valley to sit in zazen.
After spending the day begging in town,
I now sit peacefully under a cliff in the evening cool.
Alone, with one robe and one bowl —
The life of a Zen monk is truly the best!
One Robe, One Bowl
translated by John Stevens