Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going —
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.
----------------------------------------------------
Hi Friends,
There are many accounts of Zen Buddhist monks who predicted the timing of
their own deaths and then faced their passing with absolute calm. In
1360, at the age of seventy-seven, Kozan Ichikyo is said to have written
this poem on the morning of his death, laid down his brush, and died
sitting upright. Just a few days before, he had called his pupils
together, ordered them to bury him without ceremony, and forbade them to
hold services in his memory. The pupils obeyed — in part; Ichikyo's
verse remembers him centuries later.
This translation comes from the anthology Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death compiled by Yoel Hoffmann, a professor of Eastern Philosophy and Literature at Tel-Aviv University and Kyoto University.
In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sending out one poem per day for the duration of the month. To learn more about National Poetry Month, visit www.poets.org, the website of the Academy of American Poets.
Best,
Ellen
Labels: NPM, translation