In the annals of Zen Buddhism and Japanese literature, the name Ryōkan (1758–1831) resonates with an enduring mystique, evoking an image of a spiritual maverick who transcended conventional monastic life to embrace a path of profound simplicity and poetic expression. A new collection, This and That: Short Poems of Zen Master Ryōkan, translated by Stan Ziobro and John Slater, brings to light eleven of his most poignant poems, offering a compelling glimpse into the mind of a man who lived by his own unique understanding of the Dharma. This collection, published on April 19, 2026, by Monkfish Book Publishing Company, serves as a vital bridge, introducing a wider audience to the unconventional asceticism and philosophical depth that characterized Ryōkan’s life and work.
The very essence of Ryōkan’s approach is encapsulated in a popular, albeit possibly apocryphal, anecdote. It is said that upon discovering his humble thatched-roof cottage had been burgled, Ryōkan’s reaction was not one of anger or distress, but of remarkable equanimity. Instead of pursuing the thief to reclaim his meager possessions, he is reported to have "chased after the thief, stripped naked, and gave him the clothes he was wearing as well." Upon returning to his now bare dwelling, he sat in zazen, naked and alone, and composed a poem that has since become one of his most celebrated:
Left behind by thief
bright moon
in my window
This seemingly simple verse, as translator John Slater elucidates in his commentary, speaks volumes about the core of Ryōkan’s spiritual realization: "Awakening cannot be taken away, and even shines more brightly when every last prop is removed." This profound insight into the nature of true possession and the illusory nature of material wealth underscores Ryōkan’s departure from the typical monastic paradigm.
The Life and Times of a Virtuous Wanderer
Ryōkan, born Yamamoto Eizō in the village of Izumozaki, embarked on his spiritual journey at a tender age. Renouncing the worldly life, he was ordained as a novice monk at the Sōtō Zen temple Kōshō-ji. It was there that his teacher, Genjō Haryō, bestowed upon him the name Ryōkan (良寛), meaning "Virtuous Meditation." For four years, he diligently pursued his training, immersing himself in the practice of zazen, the study of Zen poetry, and the rhythm of manual labor.
His spiritual trajectory took a significant turn when Dainin Kokusen, the esteemed teacher of Genjō Haryō, visited Kōshō-ji. Kokusen is said to have "recognized something exceptional in Ryōkan" and subsequently took him under his wing as his own disciple. During this tutelage, his name was again altered, this time to Ryōkan (良寬), signifying "Virtuous Broadmindedness." After an eleven-year period of intense study and practice under Kokusen, Ryōkan received inka in 1790, a formal recognition of his enlightenment, along with the additional appellation Taigu (大愚), meaning "Great Fool." This title, often bestowed upon those who embody a profound, almost childlike innocence and detachment from worldly wisdom, speaks to Ryōkan’s unique spiritual attainment.
Tragically, only a year later, Kokusen passed away. This event marked a pivotal moment in Ryōkan’s life, prompting him to leave the monastery in 1791. He then commenced a forty-year odyssey across Japan, living as a wandering hermit. Eschewing the structured environment of monastic life, Ryōkan chose to reside in simple thatched huts nestled on mountainsides. His sustenance was derived from begging for food, a practice known as takumotsu, which further embodied his commitment to detachment and reliance on the kindness of others. It was during these decades of wandering that he produced his most celebrated body of work, his poetry.
A Poetic Legacy of Impermanence and Nonduality
Ryōkan’s poetry, deeply influenced by classical Chinese and Japanese literature, and particularly by the profound teachings of Eihei Dōgen, served as his primary medium for articulating his lived experience. He explored themes of impermanence, nonduality, and the inherent loneliness that often accompanies a solitary spiritual path. As Ziobro and Slater observe in their introduction, his verses are characterized by a remarkable duality: "austere and playful," often exhibiting an "ambivalence about his dual role as monk/poet—and about the nature of poetry itself."
This self-reflexivity is evident in his own words:
when you see that my
poems aren’t poems
then we can talk poetry.
This statement challenges conventional notions of art and expression, suggesting that true understanding arises not from the form, but from the underlying essence.
The collection This and That presents a meticulously curated selection of Ryōkan’s short poems, categorized into haiku, tanka, and kanshi (Chinese-style poems). These poems offer a direct window into his daily existence and his profound philosophical insights, often framed through the lens of everyday observations.
Echoes of a Hermit’s Life: Selected Poems
The poems included in the collection resonate with a powerful blend of simplicity and profound meaning, reflecting Ryōkan’s commitment to "walk in the true way."
Poem 1:
The world flowers and fades like shifting clouds
50 years gone as if in a dream
Tonight in light rain alone in my hut
I pull my robe close and approach the window
This opening poem immediately establishes the theme of impermanence, framing a lifetime as a fleeting dream against the backdrop of the natural world’s cyclical beauty and decay. The solitary act of pulling his robe closer in the rain underscores his embrace of simple, sensory experiences as conduits to deeper awareness.
Poem 2:
Geese honk in the winter sky
leaves blown over distant hills
on a back road home from the village
—smoke rising from every hut—
I hold up my empty bowl
Here, the imagery of the vast winter sky and distant hills contrasts with the intimate detail of smoke rising from humble dwellings. The poem culminates in the act of holding up an empty bowl, a potent symbol of his mendicant life and his acceptance of whatever sustenance the world offers.
Poem 3:
Whatever it takes
if only for one day
out of a thousand years
I want to walk in the true way
This verse articulates Ryōkan’s unwavering dedication to his spiritual path, emphasizing the singular importance of living authentically, even if only for a brief moment in the grand sweep of time.
Poem 4:
In full monastic robes, resolved,
determined, I pass through a group of children
who see me at once and call out:
“Come play handball!”
This poem humorously highlights the tension between his spiritual aspirations and the innocent, spontaneous desires of the world. The children’s invitation, though seemingly trivial, represents a pull towards worldly engagement that Ryōkan, in his own way, navigates.
Poem 5:
Life in this world
like a shout echoing
off a mountain
as it fades away
This tanka employs the metaphor of an echoing shout to capture the transient nature of existence, a poignant reminder of the impermanence of all phenomena.
Poem 6:
Strive and strain and you’ll never win
but dissolve all craving and what you have is ample
with a few vegetables to stave off hunger
I wear my monk’s robe lightly
travel alone with the deer for friends
or loudly sing along with the village children
I rinse my ears in water from the falls
my spirit a breeze through the mountain pine
This extended poem encapsulates Ryōkan’s philosophy of non-striving and contentment. He advocates for dissolving craving, finding sufficiency in simple needs, and harmonizing with nature and community. The imagery of the deer as companions and singing with children reveals his ability to embrace both solitude and connection, finding spiritual resonance in each. The act of rinsing his ears in the waterfall and his spirit being like a breeze through pine trees further emphasizes his immersion in the natural world as a source of spiritual refreshment.
Poem 7:
In old age it’s easy to wake up from dreams
I wake now and the temple’s empty
one lamp in the niche about to flicker out—
deep in winter night I raise the wick
This poem reflects on the clarity that often comes with age, where the illusions of life begin to dissipate. The solitary lamp, about to extinguish, symbolizes the fading of worldly concerns, and Ryōkan’s act of raising the wick signifies his continued commitment to tending the flame of awareness even in the face of impermanence.
Poem 8:
Days given over to laziness
I leave everything to heaven
with rice in my sack
and wood by the stove
who cares about delusion or enlightenment
the black dust of fame and fortune?
At dusk in my thatched hut just sitting
as the rain starts . . . I stretch my legs
This poem presents a seemingly paradoxical embrace of "laziness," which in a Zen context often implies effortless being and surrender to the natural flow of life. Ryōkan expresses detachment from the dualistic pursuit of delusion or enlightenment and the ephemeral nature of fame and fortune, finding contentment in simple existence, marked by the basic necessities of rice and wood, and the quiet act of sitting as rain falls.
Poem 9:
I shaved my head and became a monk
I’ve lived here for years like Buddha
but everywhere people bring paper and brush
and beg me to write them a poem
This poem reflects on his public persona as a monk and poet, contrasting his internal spiritual practice with the external demand for his creative output. It hints at the subtle irony of his widespread recognition despite his desire for a simple, detached life.
Poem 10:
Poems? no way
when you see that my
poems aren’t poems
then we can talk poetry
This concluding poem reiterates the theme of the nature of poetry and true understanding, challenging the reader to look beyond the conventional definition of a poem to grasp its deeper spiritual significance.
The Impact and Implications
The publication of This and That by Monkfish Book Publishing Company is more than just the release of a new translation; it is an event that allows for a deeper engagement with Ryōkan’s enduring legacy. In an era often characterized by relentless pursuit of material success and constant digital connectivity, Ryōkan’s life and poetry offer a powerful counter-narrative, advocating for simplicity, mindfulness, and a profound connection with the natural world.
The translators, Stan Ziobro and John Slater, have undertaken the crucial task of rendering Ryōkan’s verses accessible to an English-speaking audience. Their work, informed by years of study and immersion in Zen philosophy and Japanese literature, aims to capture not just the literal meaning of the poems, but also their subtle nuances and spiritual depth. The fact that this collection is released in 2026, a future date at the time of this reporting, suggests an anticipation of its relevance and impact on contemporary readers seeking spiritual solace and wisdom.
The broader implications of Ryōkan’s poetry lie in its ability to transcend cultural and temporal boundaries. His emphasis on the present moment, the interconnectedness of all things, and the inherent wisdom found in simplicity resonates universally. By presenting these poems, Ziobro and Slater are not merely sharing literary works; they are offering a pathway to contemplation, inviting readers to reconsider their own values and priorities in the face of life’s inevitable flux. Ryōkan, the unorthodox wandering hermit, continues to speak across centuries, reminding us that true wealth lies not in accumulation, but in the clarity of an uncluttered mind and a spirit attuned to the subtle beauty of existence.
