Sunday, August 13, 2017


My Old Hut

A poem by Shihwu (1272–1352), tr. Red Pine:
Paper windows bamboo walls hedge of hibiscus
when guests arrive wormwood soup serves as tea
the poor people I meet are mostly content
rare is the rich man who isn't vain or wasteful
I move my bookstand to read sutras by moonlight
I honor the buddhas with a vase of wild flowers
everyone says Tushita Heaven is fine
but how can it match this old hut of mine

<< Home
Newer›  ‹Older

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?