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240 pages, Paperback
First published May 28, 2008
What's the tea sellerThere's a lot more of that type. Baisaō continually refers to himself as a crank, an ignoramous, wretched, an old man...he's certainly got the monk humility down. And a healthy(?) attitude about growing older.
got in his basket?
bottomless tea cups?
a two-spouted pot?
He pokes around town
for a small bit of rice
working very hard
for next to nothing--
blinkered old drudge
just plodding ahead...
Bah!
An iris pond in flowerThat one is a bit more profound. Though I admit, part of my love probably comes from having been to Kyoto, so I can call up an image of Sanjūsangendō and its grounds, and an old man selling tea by the water's edge. I never lived in Kyoto but I visited it several times, and maybe it's being to bring up memories of the Kamogawa and Arashiyama and Shōgo-in and all the other places mentioned within that makes me appreciate Baisaō's poetry so much.
before the ancient hall,
I sell tea this evening
by the water's edge;
it is steeped in the cup
with the moon and stars
one sip, you wake forever
form your worldly sleep.