Zen Master Ryokan (1758-1831), is a favourite writer of mine. His completely accepting attitude to his life — mixed with a few lighthearted grumbles — create a recognizabe voice that comes down to us over the centuries. Even translated into English from Japanese they still convey the sense of who he was and why.

Here are three typical pieces:

Too lazy to be ambitious,
I let the world take care of itself.
Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag;
a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.
Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?
Listening to the night rain on my roof,
I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

When I was a lad,
I sauntered about town as a gay blade,
Sporting a cloak of the softest down,
And mounted on a splendid chestnut-colored horse.
During the day, I galloped to the city;
At night, I got drunk on peach blossoms by the river.
I never cared about returning home,
Usually ending up, with a big smile on my face, at a pleasure pavilion!

Blending with the wind,
Snow falls;
Blending with the snow,
The wind blows.
By the hearth
I stretch out my legs,
Idling my time away
Confined in this hut.
Counting the days,
I find that February, too,
Has come and gone
Like a dream.

From Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf: Zen Poems of Ryokan, translated by John Stevens.