Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
In illusion what is true?
Illusion is from the outset true.
In illusion what is manifested?
The very illusion itself is manifestation.
If this is so,
then one can never be apart from illusion?
No matter how you seek illusion,
you won't find it."
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
AFTER THE RAIN, CLIMBING A TALL BUILDING TO VIEW THE MOUNTAINS
It was just clearing after the rain of the night before
Mossy traces were on the steps.
I didn't climb the building thinking about writing a poem.
This poet's fest doesn't need any wine warming.
Just open the window, the mountain range will come in.
Before the eye, the village, drenched in smoke,
I write now and see it as I saw it then -
The mountains and the sea -
Viewing it in detail
Like a painted picture.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
I climb up high and look on the four seas,
Heaven and earth spreading out so far.
Frost blankets all the stuff of autumn,
The wind blows with the great desert's cold.
The eastward-flowing water is immense,
All the ten thousand things billow.
The white sun's passing brightness fades,
Floating clouds seem to have no end.
Swallows and sparrows nest in the wutong tree,
Yuan and luan birds perch among jujube thorns.
Now it's time to head on back again,
I flick my sword and sing Taking the Hard Road.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Always working alone, always walking alone,
The enlightened one walks the free way of Nirvana
With melody that is old and clear in spirit
And naturally elegant in style,
But with body that is tough and bony,
Passing unnoticed in the world.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
In autumn rain, the grasses rot and die,
Below the steps, the jueming's colour is fresh.
Full green leaves cover the stems like feathers,
And countless flowers bloom like golden coins.
The cold wind, moaning, blows against you fiercely,
I fear that soon you'll find it hard to stand.
Upstairs the scholar lets down his white hair,
He faces the wind, breathes the fragrance, and weeps.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The grass is spreading out across the plain,
Each year, it dies, then flourishes again.
It's burnt but not destroyed by prairie fires,
When spring winds blow they bring it back to life.
Afar, its scent invades the ancient road,
Its emerald green overruns the ruined town.
Again I see my noble friend depart,
I find I'm crowded full of parting's feelings.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Mild and moist were the months of spring;
Cool and clear is the white season of autumn.
Now the dew congeals, no longer drifting mists.
The sky is high, the landscape sharp and clear.
Soaring peaks rise from yonder mountain range --
Seen from here, their lofty beauty is unsurpassed.
Fragrant chrysanthemums deck the woods with splendor;
The green pines stand in rows above the cliff.
I admire their beauteous grandeur,
Elegant and lofty under the frost.
Holding my wine cup, I toast to the mystics
Who once roamed along the pines.
Searching for the essence I have not yet acquired,
Reluctantly I await the rising moon.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
MEETING TANG YOUSHENG
Twenty-one years old and from my village, yet!
So bright and filled with fresh ideas.
No wonder you gained such a high post in Tenchong.
I seemed ancient when I came to Chan.
We simmered tea and talked and talked
Coming up with one great line after another.
We hung up a lamp and read old poems.
I only just met you and yet I knew you all my life.
All night long we talked in an adventure
That continued until dawn. Then we parted.
I'm back on South Dian Road now
With my old companions, the sighing wind and bright moon.
The night sky is as lovely and charming as ever.
The stars are all there, but something's wrong.
Something is missing from the night's beauty.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Words crystallize the spirit in the place of power.
The sixth month the white snow is suddenly seen to fly.
The third watch the disk of the sun sends out shining rays.
The water blows the wind of gentleness.
Wandering in Heaven, one eats the spirit-power of the receptive.
The deeper secret within the secret:
Land that is nowhere, that is the true home.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The spiritual light, shining independently,
transcends the senses and objects;
the essence is revealed, real and eternal,
not confined to written words.
The nature of mind has no stain;
it is basically complete in itself.
Just detach from false mental objects
and be enlightened to being-as-is.