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.
Ryōkan Taigu was a quiet and unconventional Sōtō Zen Buddhist monk who lived much of his life as a hermit. Ryōkan is remembered for his poetry and calligraphy, which present the essence of Zen life. – wikipedia
This spring I found his book DEWDROPS ON A LOTUS BLOSSOM on a brownstone’s steps in Clinton Hill and read
Who says my poems are poems?
My poems are not poems.
When you know that my poems are not poems,
Then we can speak of poetry!
The Zen of Chance
See
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ry%C5%8Dkan