One can't be a hermit today
Bills have to be paid without delay;
Just to survive is an Art
And debts accrue from the start.
Philosophers join the homeless
Whom with little success;
Search for the elusive stone
That's more valued than a home.
The Dharma bums high and low
Effortlessly go with the flow;
Where each encounter is a test
Until they join the very best.
Through a myriad of byways
Awaiting what the Master says;
Of the Koan that mystifies
And the Truth that never lies.
Gadgets of the modern age
Are a hindrance to the sage;
The fruit that appeals to me
Is found on the Bodhi-tree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem