japanese death poems: 20 greatest hits

Favorites from Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death, compiled by Yoel Hoffmann:

And now, at the hour of my death,
my bowels move--an offering
raised to the Lord of Worlds.

My coming, my going--
two simple happenings
that got entangled.

Life is like a cloud of mist
emerging from a mountain cave
and death
a floating moon
in its celestial course.
If you think too much
about the meaning they may have
you'll be bound forever
like an ass to a stake.

The journey west,
a way that all would travel:
flower field.

A parting word?
The melting snow
is odorless.

Sadly I see
the light fade on my palm:
a firefly.

I long for people--
then again I loathe them:
end of autumn.

One spot, alone,
left glowing in the dark:
my snotty nose.

Stumble,
fall,
slide down the snow slope.

From one basin
to another--
stuff and nonsense.

Autumn breeze:
driftwood
landing lightly on the bank.

How sad: cherry blossoms
turn to clouds that
come to greet me.

My morning porridge,
and then I'll go to see
the willow blossom.

Now that my storehouse
has burned down, nothing
conceals the moon.

You've done your duty
till today,
old scarecrow.

I have gone through
this world-a life
of moon and snow and flowers.

One moon--
one man--
snow-covered field path.

Whether or not a paradise
awaits in the far reaches
of the west . . .

For eight and fifty years
I've had my fun
with moon and flowers.

Death poems
are mere delusion--
death is death.