Yes, I am
truly a dunce. Living
among the trees and plants,
don’t question me about illusion and
enlightenment. This old fellow just likes to smile to
himself. I wade across streams with bony legs,
and I carry a bag about in fine spring
weather. That’s my life, and
the world owes me
nothing.
The water of the mind,
How clear it is!
Gazing at it,
The boundaries are invisible.
But as soon as even
A slight thought arises,
Ten thousand images crowd it.
Attach to them,
And they become real.
Be carried by them,
And it will be difficult to return.
How painful to see a person
Trapped in the ten-fold
delusions.
As a boy I studied
literature, but was too lazy to
become a Confucian; in my younger days
I worked at Zen, but got no Dharma worth handing
down. Now I’ve built a grass hut, act as
custodian of a Shinto shrine,
half a shrine, half
a monk.
Humans born into
this floating world quickly become
like the roadside dust: at dawn small children,
by sunset already grown white-haired, without inner
understanding, they struggle without cease.
I ask the children of the universe:
for what reason do you
pass this way?
Keep your heart clear and
transparent and you will never be bound.
A single disturbed thought, though, creates ten thousand
distractions. Let myriad things captivate you and you’ll
go further and further astray. How painful to
see people all wrapped up in
themselves.