On Storm Riddled Pass 

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Windblown

 

 

 

 

 

Within this temporal body composed of a hundred bones and nine holes there resides a spirit which, for lack of an adequate name, I think of as windblown… It brought me to poetry many years ago, initially for its own gratification, but eventually as a way of life… this windblown spirit considered the security of court life at one point; at another it considered risking a display of ignorance by becoming a scholar. But its passion for poetry would not permit either. Since it knows no other way than the way of poetry,
it has clung to it tenaciously.

Narrow Road to the Interior and other writings Matsuo Basho; translated by Sam Hamill; Pgs. 55-56

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