Looking For A Monk And Not Finding Him

I took a small path leadingup a hill valley, finding therea temple, its gate coveredwith moss, and in front ofthe door but tracks of birds;in the room of the old monkno one was living, and Istaring through the windowsaw but a hair duster hangingon the wall, itself coveredwith dust; emptily I sighedthinking to go, but thenturning back several times,seeing how the mist onthe hills was flying, and thena light rain fell as if itwere flowers falling fromthe sky, making a music ofits own; away in the distancecame the cry of a monkey, andfor me the cares of the worldslipped away, and I was filledwith the beauty around me.