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'' Teishin [the young nun who cared for him, in his last years of life] records that Ryōkan, seated in meditation posture, died 'just as if he were falling asleep' ''
His poetry is sublime. He is the Great Fool. He fell in love when he was in his 70's. Now that's cool.
Blending with the wind, Snow falls; Blending with the snow, The wind blows. By the hearth I stretch out my legs, Idling my time away Confined in this hut. Counting the days, I find that February, too, Has come and gone Like a dream.