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225. Young white tea flower Blinding in the moonlight. I bet you will taste good Tommorow. 226. The night wind Passes through my robes. Red sunset moon. 227. Many flowers Grow from one. Their sacred landscape Undisturbed. 228. So many old trees Frozen on the horizon As night descends. 229. Today I polished My bamboo stick. No slivers to leave. 230. A steady rain sweeps the lake. Ducks and geese shelter under the willow. Would that I could share my tea; Bird party. Crazy old priest, senile old man! You'ld have to hold the cups for them. 231. A student asked, "I have not met Old Risu yet. What does he look like?" Sensei replied, "Fallen leaves, no rake." 232. Aches of years ago While my mind sees Glorious Autumn birth. 233. So many words To tell one things clearly. What is the fuss? 234. So many buds On the willow at dawn. My eyes are shut. 235. Confusion of winds. Half a day rains. Half a day sun and moon. Even an old fool Knows which is which. 236. Much too hazy Thoughts at twelve midnight. Oh blessed tea cup. 237. First leaf appears. Spring nears my doorway. I am out seeing. 238. Fresh Jasmine tea. I have to laugh, hah! A cup of mind. 239. Waking or dreaming Neither real or unreal. The cuckoo sings. 240. A student asked, "When you rest where are you?" "Exactly where I should be, Exactly where I am at the moment, Exactly," said Old Risu. 241. Just so, alone. So far the forest silence. Inbetween times. 242. Mountain walking now, Cloud chasing madman. Note to self, "go." 243. There is no attaining In a dewdrop Crossing my tounge This misty morning. 244. What will you eat When the Sensei's mind Takes a vacation Beneath the illusory willow? 245. Touch the untouchable And your eye is the moon. Such a strange thought For a priest in his dotage. 246. The tea tray is not so heavy Yet the tea is very filling. When the pot is empty The tray may vanish. 247. Waterfall, Breaking through all My selfish illusions; How masterful. 248. Exhausted as dawn breaks. Tea cup drained As the last star vanishes. My pillow calls me. 249. At dawn The first Springs wrens Begin their songs Easing me to sleep. 250. With no eyebrow to raise I can only use my stick on you. No power you posses Can save you from that. With love; T.S. |
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