Looking For A Monk And Not Finding Him / Li Po

I took a small path leading 
up a hill valley, finding there 
a temple, its gate covered 
with moss, and in front of 
the door but tracks of birds; 
in the room of the old monk 
no one was living, and I 
staring through the window 
saw but a hair duster hanging 
on the wall, itself covered 
with dust; emptily I sighed 
thinking to go, but then 
turning back several times, 
seeing how the mist on 
the hills was flying, and then 
a light rain fell as if it 
were flowers falling from 
the sky, making a music of 
its own; away in the distance 
came the cry of a monkey, and 
for me the cares of the world 
slipped away, and I was filled 
with the beauty around me.