Ikkyu Sojun
(1394-1481)

Why is it all so beautiful this fake dream this craziness, why?

Fuck flattery success money all I do is lie back and suck my thumb.


 

 
Calling My Hand Mori's Hand
My hand, how it resembles Mori's hand.
I believe the lady is the master of loveplay;
If I get ill, she can cure the jeweled stem.
And then they rejoice, the monks at my meeting.

To Lady Mori With Deepest Gratitude and Thanks
The tree was barren of leaves but you brought a new spring.
Long green sprouts, verdant flowers, fresh promise.
Mori, if I ever forget my profound gratitude to you,
Let me burn in hell forever.

After They Die
Why are people called Buddhas
After they die?
Because they don't grumble any more,
Because they don't make a nuisance
Of themselves any more.

I Hate Incense
A master’s handiwork cannot be measured
But still priests wag their tongues explaining the “Way” and babbling about “Zen.”
This old monk has never cared for false piety
And my nose wrinkles at the dark smell of incense before the Buddha











Further poems / haikus:


http://thegreenleaf.co.uk/hp/Ikkyu/00haiku.htm
http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/I/IkkyuSojunIk/