And the world owes me nothing

Yes, I’m Truly A Dunce
Taigu Ryokan

Yes, I’m truly a dunce
Living among trees and plants.
Please don’t question me about illusion and enlightenment —
This old fellow just likes to smile to himself.

I wade across streams with bony legs,
And carry a bag about in fine spring weather.
That’s my life,
And the world owes me nothing.

Ryōkan Taigu (良寛大愚?) (1758–1831) was a quiet and eccentric Sōtō Zen Buddhist monk who lived much of his life as a hermit. Ryōkan is remembered for his poetry and calligraphy, which present the essence of Zen life.

Till you return

…Soaring in white clouds,
The cherry trees are in full bloom,
Every branch bending with loaded blossoms.
But the wind is ceaseless as the peak is lofty,
And day after day falls the spring rain;

The flowers have scattered from the upper sprays.
May the blossoms on the lower branches
Neither fall nor lose their beauty,
Till you, who journey, grass for pillow,
Come home again!”

Takahashi Mushimaro, from “1000 Poems from the Manyoshu: The Complete Nippon Gakujutsu Shinkokai”

From here.

What the Dog Perhaps Hears

If an inaudible whistle
blown between our lips
can send him home to us,
then silence is perhaps
the sound of spiders breathing
and roots mining the earth;

it may be asparagus heaving,
headfirst, into the light
and the long brown sound
of cracked cups, when it happens.

We would like to ask the dog
if there is a continuous whir
because the child in the house
keeps growing, if the snake
really stretches full length
without a click and the sun
breaks through clouds without
a decibel of effort,
whether in autumn, when the trees
dry up their wells, there isn't a shudder
too high for us to hear.

What is it like up there
above the shut-off level
of our simple ears?
For us there was no birth cry,
the newborn bird is suddenly here,
the egg broken, the nest alive,
and we heard nothing when the world changed.

Lisel Mueller, 'Alive Together: New and Selected Poems'