Zen poetry....
Alex
UK Veteran
I’ve discovered this over the last couple of years.
This is from Xie Lingyun (385-433), isn’t it beautiful ?
At dawn, staff in hand, I climb the crags,
and by dusk settle among the mountains.
Scarcely a peak rises as high as this hut
facing crags and overlooking winding streams.
Forests stretch before the mountain's open gate
boulders heaped round its very steps.
Mountains crowd around, blocking out roads.
Trails wander into bamboo thickets.
Visitors lose their way on coming up
or forget the paths leading home when they descend.
Raging torrents rush through the dusk,
Monkeys howl throughout the night.
Deep in meditation I hold the inner pattern,
nurturing the Way, never severing from it.
My heart is one with the autumn trees,
My eyes delight in the flowering of spring.
I inhabit the constant and await my end,
Content to dwell in peace, accepting the flux of things.
I only regret that there is no kindred spirit here
to climb this ladder of sky and clouds with me.
Comments
花 非 花
花 非 花，雾 非 雾
夜 半 来，天 明 去。
来 知 春 梦 几 多 时
去 似 朝 云 无 觅 处。
Hua Fei Hua
Hua fei hua, wu fei wu
Ye ban lai, tian ming qu.
Lai ru chun meng ji duo shi
Qu si zhao yun wu mi chu.
When Flowers Are Not Flowers
When flowers are not flowers, fog not fog
Evening half gone, fading sky brightness.
Many times she comes, spring dreams enter
Out like the dawn clouds, without leaving a trace.
Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water.
The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.
Although its light is wide and great,
The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.
The whole moon and the entire sky
Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass.
— Dogen
The past is already past.
Don't try to regain it.
The present does not stay.
Don't try to touch it.
From moment to moment.
The future has not come;
Don't think about it
Beforehand.
Whatever comes to the eye,
Leave it be.
There are no commandments
To be kept;
There's no filth to be cleansed.
With empty mind really
Penetrated, the dharmas
Have no life.
When you can be like this,
You've completed
The ultimate attainment.
— Layman P'ang
A question is not the answer
the answer suffices the instant
What is it?Is it plain?
A bird?
A super B ing?
Here a word, there an image
thought passed away
On this rock we roll
Buddha has Poped
Dharma has silenced
Sangha has disrobed
The cycle turns
unmoved
Well ... I am sure better exists
what about the beat poets for Western Zen?
First there is a mountain
Donozen
My apologies for the non-poetic
Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water.
The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.
Although its light is wide and great,
The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.
The whole moon and the entire sky
Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass.
— Dogen
The entire universe is reflected in one's own retina,
From the smallest photons to the largest galaxies,
They exist nowhere but within us.
When mortals are alive, they worry about death.
When they're full, they worry about hunger.
Theirs is the Great Uncertainty.
But sages don't consider the past.
And they don't worry about the future.
Nor do they cling to the present.
And from moment to moment they follow the Way.
— Bodhidharma
My daily activity is not unusual;
I just remain in spontaneous harmony.
Not grasping or rejecting,
nothing left to assert or oppose.
What use are fancy titles
and expensive clothes of vermilion and purple?
This entire mountain is free
of even a speck of dust.
Supernatural powers and miraculous activity:
fetching water and carrying firewood.
— Layman P’ang
No-greed surpasses charity.
No-delusion surpasses concentration.
No-ill will surpasses morality.
No-self-centered thinking surpasses cultivating connections.
I follow an ordinary person's affairs,
and at night sleep at ease.
In winter I use the fireplace
with the fire that's free of smoke.
I neither fear the dark spirit of misfortune,
nor seek after her sister good luck.
Trusting in the flow, what's needed comes.
We all ride together in the boat of wisdom --
if you have this understanding,
your merit has no bounds.
— Layman P’ang
The past is already past --
Don't try to regain it.
The present doesn't stay --
Don't try to grasp it over and over.
The future isn't here yet --
Don't ponder it beforehand.
When the three times are revealed as non-existent,
mind is the same as awakened nature.
To quietly function relying on emptiness --
This is manifesting profound action.
Not even the least phenomena really exists --
Whatever comes to the eye, leave it be.
No rules to be kept, no filth to be cleaned;
With empty mind truly revealed,
All things no longer have birth or death.
When you are like this
The ultimate achievement is finished.
— Layman P’ang
Love the Zen Buddhists. Thanks.
I came once to sit on Cold Mountain
And lingered here for thirty years.
Yesterday I went to see relatives and friends;
Over half had gone to the Yellow Springs.
Bit by bit life fades like a guttering lamp,
Passes on like a river that never rests.
This morning I face my lonely shadow
And before I know it tears stream down.
Today I sat before the cliff,
Sat a long time till mists had cleared.
A single thread, the clear stream runs cold;
A thousand yards the green peaks lift their heads.
White clouds—the morning light is still;
Moonrise—the lamp of night drifts upward;
Body free from dust and stain,
What cares could trouble my mind?
The clear water sparkles like crystal,
You can see through it easily, right to the bottom.
My mind is free from every thought,
Nothing in the myriad realms can move it.
Since it cannot be wantonly roused,
Forever and forever it will stay unchanged.
When you have learned to know in this way
You will know there is no inside or out!
— Han-Shan
At Entsu-ji so long ago—
How many times has winter given way to spring?
Beyond the gate a thousand homes,
Yet not a single acquaintance.
When my robe was soiled, I washed it;
If food ran out, we begged in the town.
I pored over the lives of eminent priests
And came to understand their praise of holy poverty.
Thinking back, I recall my days at Entsu-ji
And the solitary struggle to find the Way
Carrying firewood reminded me of Layman Ho;
When I polished rice, the Sixth Patriarch came to mind.
I was always first in line to receive the Master’s teaching,
And never missed an hour of meditation.
Thirty years have flown by
Since I left the green hills and blue sea of that lovely place.
What has become of all my fellow disciples?
And how can I forget the kindness of my beloved teacher?
The tears flow on and on, blending with the swirling mountain stream.
— Ryokan
Beautiful poem. I attach a video from Entsu-ji.
Disappearance
The leaf tips bend
under the weight of dew.
Fruits are ripening
in Earth’s early morning.
Daffodils light up in the sun.
The curtain of cloud at the gateway
of the garden path begins to shift:
have pity for childhood,
the way of illusion.
Late at night,
the candle gutters.
In some distant desert,
a flower opens.
And somewhere else,
a cold aster
that never knew a cassava patch
or gardens of areca palms,
never knew the joy of life,
at that instant disappears-
man’s eternal yearning.
– Thich Nhat Hanh