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Chan/Zen poetry
riverflow
Veteran
Han Shan, Wang Wei, Dogen, Basho, Ryokan, tanka, haiku, you name it. Post your favorite zennie poems here (or your own)... To begin:
Treading along in this dreamlike, illusory realm,
Without looking for the traces I may have left;
A cuckoo's song beckons me to return home;
Hearing this, I tilt my head to see
Who has told me to turn back;
But do not ask me where I am going;
As I travel in this limitless world,
Where every step I take is my home.
~ Dogen (translated by Steven Heine)
Treading along in this dreamlike, illusory realm,
Without looking for the traces I may have left;
A cuckoo's song beckons me to return home;
Hearing this, I tilt my head to see
Who has told me to turn back;
But do not ask me where I am going;
As I travel in this limitless world,
Where every step I take is my home.
~ Dogen (translated by Steven Heine)
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Arising and vanishing
Either or both demands an imaginary "I" state
A state called self
The imaginary self
A state
Part of the arising-subsiding-vanishing
Without a self, who would know of such things
as insufficient.
Inside the brushwood gate
there is a moon;
there are flowers.
~Ryokan (translated by Kazuaki Tanahashi)
no idle thoughts remained in my head
nothing to do I write poems on rocks
and trust the current like an unmoored boat
~ Han Shan (translated by Red Pine)
splash out
the Buddha’s sermon
Don’t say
that the deepest meaning
comes only from one’s mouth
Day and night
eighty thousand poems
arise one after the other
and in fact
not a single word
has ever been spoken
Muso Soseki (1275-1351)
Translated by W.S. Merwin
and Soiku Shigematsu
"Nocturnal Reflections While Travelling"
Du Fu
Gentle breeze on grass by the shore,
The boat's tall mast alone at night.
Stars fall to the broad flat fields,
Moon rises from the great river's flow.
Have my writings not made any mark?
An official should stop when old and sick.
Fluttering from place to place I resemble,
A gull between heaven and earth.
"Qiang Village (1)"
Du Fu
Red clouds tower in the west,
The sun is sinking on the plain.
A sparrow chirps on the wicker gate,
I return from a thousand li away.
My wife and children are shocked to see me,
Then calm themselves and wipe their tears.
I floated through this disordered life,
By chance I have managed to return alive.
The neighbours all lean over the wall,
And they as well are sighing and sobbing.
Late at night we bring out candles,
And face each other as in a dream.
"Alone And Drinking Under The Moon"
Li Po
Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are
friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.
"Autumn River Song"
Li Po
The moon shimmers in green water.
White herons fly through the moonlight.
The young man hears a girl gathering water-chestnuts:
into the night, singing, they paddle home together.
Slip me down between the waves,
Beyond the reach of needs or craves.
Slip me down and make me free
As apples falling from the tree.
B..
(Inspired by zen's 'Just be')
Rushing past
To the dusty world,
My fleeting form
Casts no reflection.
~ Dogen
(translated by Steven Heine)
-not really a poem, but its loaded with "poemness". and i can not cite a source but if i had to i would cite "the wind".
“Have a cup of tea!”
I’ve stock for a thousand years,
But no one’s buying.
If only you would come
And take one good drink
The ancient mental craving
Would instantly cease.
~ The Old Tea Seller Baisaô (1675–1763)
Look at the lake in front of the gate.
When the sun shines, it radiates light and brightness.
When the wind comes, there arise ripples and waves.
~ Yung-ming Yen-shou (904–975)
I am not that..
I just...... Am!
~ME~
That sound you just heard
was not the wing-beat of some great bird
but my breath
and yours.
We need to do that more often, me and you.
Breathe…consciously.
Breathe.
We need Breathing Rooms
and Breathing Gardens
Breathing Baths
and Breathing Temples
where those
who've been carrying
stones on their shoulders all day
can come back to themselves
be nourished…and remember.
Remember
what it is like
to be woven back in
to the great weave of belonging.
Each and every person
in every land
clothed in every garb
is a shining prism
in Indra's Great Net.
We haven't
admitted to it
quite yet
but every thought
we're really having
all the time
is about moving
the stone away
from the opening
of our soul's tomb.
We came here to break out
but look at how polite
we're all being.
We haven't
admitted to it
quite yet
but it's going to take both of us
all of us
pushing from either side
of our blockages
and agreeing
about the direction
we want to go.
Captivity only exists
as an inner state of being.
The Captive Ones knew this.
Gandhi.
Akiva ben Joseph.
Jesus.
Al-Hallaj.
Ikkyu.
Pomponia Graecina.
They are all talking
over tea
about what
makes us free
and
they
all
agree:
If we're free inside
anywhere we go
becomes part
of our insides.
Taking all of that in
feels overwhelming, they warn us.
Penetrating
through the illusion of separateness
is not for the faint-hearted.
Suddenly we see…reality.
We see there really is
safety to be had in numbers.
Then,
sometime before the sun comes up
we forget
and go back
to walking around
like we aren't One.
________________________________________________
Bodhiyatra Poetry
http://bodhiyatra.blogspot.co.uk/?wref=bif