Since I left the household,
throwing myself into the world as it is,
I have erased all dates.
Yesterday I lived on a green mountain;
today I play in town.
More than one hundred pieces patch my robe.
A single bowl knows no years.
Leaning on my walking stick, I sing into the clear night;
laying out a straw mat, I sleep under the moon.
Who says I don't count?
This body of mine is just this.
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