I get drunk alone, sober up alone,
the night air boundlessly fresh.
I’ll send word to the monk Shao,
have him bring his zither and play under the moon,
and then we’ll board a little boat
and in the night go down the Ts’ang-wu rapids.
translated by Burton Watson
Being Present for the Moment
Website storys
Illustration, Concept Art & Comics/Manga
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
Singer, Songwriter and Author from Kyoto, Japan.
An online activist from Bosnia and Herzegovina, based in Sarajevo, standing on the right side of the history - for free Palestine.
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Dennis Mantin is a Toronto-based writer, artist, and filmmaker.
Finding Inspiration
Off the wall, under the freeway, over the rainbow, nothin' but net.
Erm, what am I doing with my life?
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
At Least Trying Too
A Journey of Spiritual Significance
Life in islamic point of view
Through the view point of camera...
L'essenziale è invisibile e agli occhi e al cuore. Beccarlo è pura questione di culo
In Kate's World
Leonard Durso 
The monk I would drink with has died.
He left his little boat under a tree
And I don’t know where the tree is.
At least he said he left it under the tree.
You have your own answer to this poem here.
I suppose the things that people do people will always do. maybe not with a monk.
Many people tend to be creatures of habit whether they realize it or not.