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Song of the Grass Roof Hermitage.
I’ve built a grass shack with nothing of value inside.
After a good meal, I like to take a nice nap.
The grass thatching still looks new;
When it wears out, I’ll add fresh thatch to the roof.
The person inside the shack is always present,
But you won’t find him inside or out.
He doesn’t hang out with worldly people,
And he doesn’t like the things they like.
This little shack contains the entire universe,
And my physical body is integrated with it.
Great Bodhisattvas don’t doubt my ideas,
Although humans may think them strange.
If you say that my hut looks shabby, I’ll answer
That the One Mind abides right where it is.
East or west, north or south,
A solid foundation is what counts.
With green pines hanging over the roof
And bright windows in the walls, not even a royal palace can compare with my shack.
With a monk’s robe over my shoulders
And a hood over my head, I’ve got no worries at all.
It’s not that I praise myself for living here,
Like some merchant pushing his product.
It’s just that when the twilight comes,
My mind is limitless from front to back.
