Bamboo and Plum Blossom

Bamboo and Plum Blossom

Bamboo and Plum Blossom

Bamboo and Plum Blossom
Bamboo and Plum Blossom

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Li Qi (690-751)

The Ancient Army - Li Qi;

The whitened sun ascends the hill and views the signal fire,
At yellow eve, the drinking horse rests by the rivers' joint.
The travellers' come near the drums in misting desert storm,
A princess plays her Chinese harp with overflowing woe.
The wild warcamps for thousand miles escape the city wall,
And show'ring snow, chaotic flurry, fills the wasted land.
The Tartar geese's mournful echoes wing for every night,
While Tartar children's flooding tears descend from every pair.
From rumours heard that Jaded Pass seems nearly overwhelmed,
All loyal soldiers' life must trail the rushing chariots.
Though every year the bones of war are buried far from town,
Yet all would see barbarous grapes flow into Chinese home.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Saijo Yaso (1892-1970)

Face by Saijo Yaso (顔 / 西條八十)


No matter how far I go
across this endless, barren plain
only pale white flowers are in bloom,
I have never before
been on such a lonely journey.
Suddenly, I turn around to see
I’ve been aimlessly wandering
on the face of my lover.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Yoshihara Sachiko

The Affair by Yoshihara Sachiko (情事/吉原幸子)


In the evening, while I was swimming
across from the shore to the diving board,
I happened to find myself heading
directly in the path of the setting sun.
The platform, completely enveloped in the halo,
became a slender bone in silhouette that looked like it would soon burn down,
and the tepid waves ahead
violently rose up and assaulted me,
just like the sunset drifting over,
coming to swallow me whole.
But I also swallowed the waves and the sun.
I became the water, became the salt,
became a golden fish,
and for the first time in a long while, I thought,
(I am alive).

Meng Haoran (689-740)


Parting From Wang Wei
Meng Haoran

Quietly, I've waited here so long,
Day after day; but now I must return.
Now I go to seek the fragrant grass,
But I grieve to part from my old friend.
Who is there who would help me on the road?
Understanding friends are few in life.
I should just observe my solitude,
And close again the gate of my old home.

Meng Haoran (689-740)

Parting From Wang Wei
Meng Haoran

Quietly, I've waited here so long,
Day after day; but now I must return.
Now I go to seek the fragrant grass,
But I grieve to part from my old friend.
Who is there who would help me on the road?
Understanding friends are few in life.
I should just observe my solitude,
And close again the gate of my old home.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Tao Qian (132-194)

Drinking Wine
Tao Qian

I made my home amidst this human bustle,
Yet I hear no clamour from the carts and horses.
My friend, you ask me how this can be so?
A distant heart will tend towards like places.
From the eastern hedge, I pluck chrysanthemum flowers,
And idly look towards the southern hills.
The mountain air is beautiful day and night,
The birds fly back to roost with one another.
I know that this must have some deeper meaning,
I try to explain, but cannot find the words.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Du Fu (712-770)

Climbing High
Du Fu

Swift wind, heaven high, an ape's cry of grief,
At the islet of clear white sand, birds circle round.
Endlessly, trees shed leaves, rustling, rustling down,
Without cease, the great river surges, surges on.
Ten thousand miles in sorrowful autumn, always someone's guest,
A hundred years full of sickness, I climb the terrace alone.
Suffering troubles, I bitterly regret my whitening temples,
Frustratingly I've had to abandon my cup of cloudy wine.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Lao Tzu (604BC-531BC)

A Vessel Unfilled
It is better to leave a vessel unfilled, than to attempt to
carry it when it is full. If you keep feeling a point that has been
sharpened, the point cannot long preserve its sharpness.
When gold and jade fill the hall, their possessor cannot keep them
safe. When wealth and honours lead to arrogancy, this brings its evil
on itself. When the work is done, and one’s name is becoming
distinguished, to withdraw into obscurity is the way of Heaven.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Hsu Yun (1840-1959)

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.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Ikku Sojun (1394-1481)

A Meal of Fresh Octopus



Lots of arms, just like Kannon the Goddess;
Sacrificed for me, garnished with citron, I revere it so!
The taste of the sea, just divine!
Sorry, Buddha, this is another precept I just cannot keep.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Yang Wan-li (1127-1206)

Listening to the Rain
 
A year ago my boat, homeward bound,
moored at Yen-ling -
I was kept awake all night by the rain
beating against the sails.
Last night the rain fell on the thatched roof
of my house.
I dreamed of the sound of rain
beating against the sails.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Bai Juyi

On the Lake (1)
Bai Juyi

Two monks sit facing, playing chess on the mountain,
The bamboo shadow on the board is dark and clear.
Not a person sees the bamboo's shadow,
One sometimes hears the pieces being moved.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831)

 
The thief
          Left it behind -
                            The moon at the window.


                                                  -    Ryokan,  1758-1831

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Chia Tao (779-843)

Spring Travel



Keeping on and on,
a traveler gets farther, farther away;
dust of the world
follows an indefatigable horse.

A traveler's feelings
after the sun's rays slant-
colors of spring
in the morning mist.

The river's flow heard
at the empty inn-
flowers just blooming
at the old palace.

I think of home
a thousand li away;
wind off the pond
stirs in green willows.

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Han Yu (768-824)

Snow in Spring
Han Yu

The new year's come, but still the plants don't grow,
First in March I'm startled by grass shoots.
The white snow thinks the colours of spring are late,
So through the pavilion and trees it flies like blossom.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Fujiwara no Sadayori (995-1045)

In the early dawn
When the mists on Uji River
Slowly lift and clear,
From the shallows to the deep,
The stakes of fishing nets appear.

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Liu Zongyuan (773-819)

Entering Yellow Stream and Hearing an Ape
Liu Zongyuan

The road and stream bend for a thousand li,
Sorrowfully, an ape somewhere calls.
The lonely servant’s tears are now exhausted,
The heartbreaking sound is in vain.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Zen Poetry

 Buddha preached in the twelve divisions,                each division full of purest truth.                East wind -- rain comes in the night,                making all the forest fresh and new.                No sutra that does not save the living,                no branch in the forest not visited by spring.                Learn to understand the meaning in them,                don't try to decide which is "valid," which is not.
                                      -    Ryokan, 1758-1851
                                            Ryokan: Zen Monk - Poet of Japan,

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Yang Wan-li (1127-1206)

Listening to the Rain
 
A year ago my boat, homeward bound,
moored at Yen-ling -
I was kept awake all night by the rain
beating against the sails.
Last night the rain fell on the thatched roof
of my house.
I dreamed of the sound of rain
beating against the sails.

Monday, May 12, 2014

T'ao Ch'ien (365-427)

Drinking the Wine
 
        I built my house near where others live.
        Still there’s no sound of wheels or voices.
        You’ll ask me ‘How can that be?’
        When the mind is remote the place is distant.
        Cutting Chrysanthemums by the Eastern Hedge,
        I look out towards the Southern Hills.
        Mountain air is fine at end of day.
        The flights of birds make for home.
        In these things there is a hint of Truth,
        but trying to tell it there’s no mind, no words.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Li Po (701-762)

Good Rain: A Night in Spring
The good rain knows its season
Come spring it comes to life again
With the wind, so stealthy in the night
Moistens all things so delicate so silent
On the wild paths clouds all black
lI morning’s glow, the red wet spots
Flowers weigh down upon the Brocade Mandarin.

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Dogen Zenji (1200-1253)

That the self advances and confirms the ten thousand things
          is called delusion;
That the ten thousand things advance and confirm the self
          is called enlightenment.
                       -    Zen Master Dogen Zenji, 1200 - 1253

Friday, May 9, 2014

Saigyo Hoshi (1118-1190)

As banked clouds

As banked clouds
are swept apart by the wind,
at dawn the sudden cry
of the first wild geese
winging across the mountains.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Keijo Shurin (1444-1518)

"The road enters green mountains near evening's dark; Beneath the white cherry trees, a Buddhist temple Whose priest doesn't know what regret for spring's passing means- Each stroke of his bell startles more blossoms into falling."

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Han Yu (768-824)

Mountain Rocks

Ragged mountain rocks efface the path .
Twilight comes to the temple and bats hover .
Outside the hall I sit on steps and gaze at torrential new rain .
Banana leaves are wide, the cape jasmine is fat .
A monk tells me the ancient Buddhist frescos are good
and holds a torch to show me, but I can barely see .
I lie quiet in night so deep even insects are silent.
From behind a rise the clear moon enters my door .
In the dawn I am alone and lose myself,
wandering up and down in mountain mist.
Then colors dazzle me : mountain red, green stream ,
and a pine so big, ten people linking hands can’t encircle it.
Bare feet on slick rock as I wade upstream.
Water sounds shhhh, shhhh. Wind inflates my shirt.
A life like this is the best.
Why put your teeth on the bit and let people rein you in?
O friends, my party of gentlemen ,
how can we grow old without returning here ?

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Ts'ai-ken T'an (c.1590)

Reading I-Jing under a morning window, 
I grind  cinnabar  with the dews on pines. 
Discussing the classics over a desk at mid-day, 
I listen to the chime announcing a breeze under the bamboo.

Monday, May 5, 2014

Ryokan (1758-1831)

A nightingale's song
by Ryokan

English version by John Stevens
Original Language Japanese


A nightingale's song
Brings me out of a dream:
The morning glows.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Wei Ying-wu (737-791)

The West River at Ch’u-chou
Alone, for love of hidden herbs, which flourish by the stream.
Above, the yellow oriole sings deep among the trees.
Spring’s flood tides, and rain, together, to this evening come.
No man at the ferry:  boat drifts there, on its own.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Li Ching Chao (1084-1151)

A Morning Dream

This morning I dreamed I followed
Widely spaced bells, ringing in the wind,
And climbed through mists to rosy clouds.
I realized my destined affinity
With An Ch'i-sheng the ancient sage.
I met unexpectedly O Lu-hua
The heavenly maiden.

Together we saw lotus roots as big as boats.
Together we ate jujubes as huge as melons.
We were the guests of those on swaying lotus seats.
They spoke in splendid language,
Full of subtle meanings.
The argued with sharp words over paradoxes.
We drank tea brewed on living fire.

Although this might not help the Emperor to govern,
It is endless happiness.
The life of men could be like this.

Why did I have to return to my former home,
Wake up, dress, sit in meditation.
Cover my ears to shut out the disgusting racket.
My heart knows I can never see my dream come true.
At least I can remember
That world and sigh.

Friday, May 2, 2014

Po Chu-i (772-846)

After Lunch
After lunch–one short nap;
On waking up–two cups of tea.
Raising my head, I see the sun’s light
Once again slanting to the southwest.
Those who are happy regret the shortness of the day;
Those who are sad tire of the year’s sloth.
But those whose hearts are devoid of joy or sadness
Just go on living, regardless of ’short’ or ’long’.