I was a Zen monk who didn't know Zen,
so I chose the woods for the years I had left.
a robe made of patches over my body,
a belt of bamboo around my waist.
mountains and streams explain the Patriarch's meaning,
flowers smile and bird songs reveal the hidden key.
sometimes I sit on a flat-topped rock,
late cloudless nights once a month..
translated by RED PINE
No comments:
Post a Comment