Drifting with the waves, he floats like duckweed from north to south
At Ikeda by a rice paddy he has situated his thatch hut
In the shadow of a graceful cassia tree he relaxes under a clear sky
The winds soughs in the pines, scattering the evening mist from the hills
An empty begging bowl has always been the true practice of the Buddhist mendicant
A broken window of itself signifies the active dwelling of a monk
What a delight! Learning of his whereabouts, an old friend in the Way comes to visit
A paper robe, some coins – the Master turns the wheel of the Dharma three times.

(Tosui osho densan)



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