mansuquig

When you, O wild monk,
come to say good-bye,
we sit for a while
by the sandy creek.

On far roads,
you hold out an empty bowl;
deep in mountains,
walk on fallen flowers.

Having no master, you
puzzle out Zen on your own;
observing strict prosody,
your poems merit praise.

This going-away
has no curcumstantial cause;
a solitary cloud
has no fixed home.
~Chia Tao