Resting place

On a journey, ill:
my dream goes wandering
over withered fields
- Basho

My old body:
a drop of dew grown
heavy at the leaf tip
- Kiba, 19th century

Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going —
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.
- Zen master Kozan Ichikyo, 1360



Zen and the poetry of death