I'm not Buddhist or Taoist
not a Confucianist either
I'm a brownfaced whitehaired
hard-up old man.
people think I just prowl
the streets peddling tea,
I've got the whole universe
in this tea caddy of mine.
Left home at ten
turned from the world
here I am in my dotage
a layman once again;
A black bat of a man
(it makes me smile myself)
but still the old tea seller
I always was.
Seventy years of Zen
got me nowhere at all
shed my black robe
became a shaggy crank.
now I have no business
with sacred or profane
just simmer tea for folks
and hold starvation back.
The Old Tea Seller Life and Zen Poetry in 18th Century Kyoto
Three poems by seventeenth century Zen priest, poet, and tea seller Baisao (collected by Norman Waddell) about being present.