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For a Japanese Poet

People bring him deer meat
and bear meat
and once even a little porcupine meat.
He's too crazy to deal with money.

For greens he walks
to the bottom of the valley
and plucks what he needs by the river.
The river bathes him.

He lifts his eyes to the clouds
and doesn't care about anything.
His little shack
almost springs from the mountainside.
No wonder his heart is so light!