January 13^th, 2026

Half my life sitting by rocks and fountains,
My study cold, seldom the steam of tea:
White clouds emerge from the stillness,
In the valley stream the water runs clear.

I had no good karma to begin with,
So I was born into this muddy age.
Yet I know there’s some past blessing,
For I’ve escaped the layman’s life,
Shut my gate among clouds.

Alms bowl in hand, I roam the village streets;
Grasping my staff, I climb the wooded peaks.
Sometimes I drift in the moonlight by Uji Bridge,
An empty boat free to follow the purls and eddies.