Three Zen Poets

[Guest guest]

A master’s handiwork cannot be measured But still priests wag their

tongues explaining the “Way” and babbling about “Zen.” This old monk

has never cared for false piety And my nose wrinkles at the dark

smell of incense before the Buddha.

~Ikkyu

~photo by Javier Flores, http://www.webshots.com

Returning to my native village after many years’ absence: Ill, I put

up at a country inn and listen to the rain. One robe, one bowl is all

I have. I light incense and strain to sit in meditation; All night a

steady drizzle outside the dark window -- Inside, poignant memories

of these long years of pilgrimage.

~Ryokan

~photo by "ImageState"

Yes, I’m truly a dunce Living among trees and plants. Please 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

carry a bag about in fine spring weather. That’s my life, And the

world owes me nothing.

~Ryokan

~photo by Arnit

The bee emerging from deep within the peony departs reluctantly

~Basho

Love,

Mazie Cheer a special someone with a fun Halloween eCard from American Greetings!