FOR MADAME REVEREND QING:
(Declining her request that he return home for the funerals of his wife and his mother.)
I've been fifty years a monk.
My body's bent over
And my pallid face shows my long companionship
With acrid smoke.
Everything changes. People come and go.
Even mountains do not stay the same.
Mulberry trees used to thrive in these parts,
Now their soft dark green is nowhere found.
If we let them, griefs would pile up in our hearts.
The Buddha taught us Chan, the way of Emptiness,
The way to keep things fresh and clean.
My mind settled and alone in contemplation.
Half a century the affairs of life continued.
Take time away from them!
The ways of this world won't transport you
To the Land of Peace.
Don't make distinctions - what's mine or yours.
Don't divide things - what you have and what you don't
No comments:
Post a Comment