My life may appear melancholy
But traveling through this world
I have entrusted myself to Heaven.
In my sack, three quarts of rice;
By the hearth, a bundle of firewood.
If someone asks what is the mark of enlightenment or illusion
I cannot say -- wealth and honor are nothing but dust.
As the evening rain falls I sit in my hermitage.
And stretch out both feet in answer.
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