Komusou

Am I
a monk,
with a birdcage over my head
playing the flute with half a mind as the road is trodden underfoot?

Should I contemplate my navel
Or just go about my worldly business?

'Cause I've got strong suspicions,
And confirming them is a risky task.
I don't know, maybe I've just got my head
way above the clouds
Or maybe it's buried under miles and miles of stone.

-

The songs of the birds are as smoke in the rain,
And the light snows falling are as the scales of a million butterflies' wings,
amongst the stars.