tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62905890545815155822023-11-16T07:21:35.284-08:00Bamboo and Plum Blossombambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.comBlogger1973125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-84929385314946073382017-07-22T12:10:00.001-07:002017-07-22T12:14:14.254-07:00Sho Ka (?)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<big><strong>Black! crow standing<br /> in his eye all eternity<br /> Long shadows draw<br /><br /> Wild winds abate<br /> In morning's first light<br /> A broken teahouse<br /><br /> Bursting open <br /> The rose dawn fills<br /> My empty universe<br /><br /> No barrier now<br /> Lofty mountain to one<br /> Riding the wind.</strong></big><br />
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- Sho Ka.</div>
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-10219313525458271322017-07-22T11:17:00.000-07:002017-07-22T11:17:07.019-07:00Ikkyu Sojun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A Meal Of Fresh Octopus</h1>
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Lots of arms, just like Kannon the Goddess; <br />Sacrificed for me, garnished with citron, I revere it so! <br />The taste of the sea, just divine! <br />Sorry, Buddha, this is another precept I just cannot keep. </div>
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Ikkyu Sojun :<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-55006346705416058622017-04-04T16:07:00.000-07:002017-04-04T16:07:35.312-07:00T'ao Ch'ien (365-427)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3>
<span id="Ninthday">Ninth Day, Ninth Month</span></h3>
Slowly autumn comes to an end.<br />
Painfully cold a dawn wind thicks the dew.<br />
Grass round here will not be green again,<br />
Trees and leaves are already suffering.<br />
The clear air is drained and purified<br />
And the high white sky’s a mystery.<br />
Nothing’s left of the cicada’s sound.<br />
Flying geese break the heavens’ silence.<br />
The Myriad Creatures rise and return.<br />
How can life and death not be hard?<br />
From the beginning all things have to die.<br />
Thinking of it can bruise the heart.<br />
What can I do to lighten my thoughts?<br />
Solace myself drinking the last of this wine.<br />
Who understands the next thousand years?<br />
Let’s just make this morning last forever.<br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-81134043861393579402017-04-04T16:02:00.001-07:002017-04-04T16:02:58.251-07:00Tu Fu (712-770)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span>Moon at Night in Ch’ang-an</span></div>
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North of here in the moonlight<br />
She too looks up in loneliness.<br />
I am sad for our little children,<br />
Too young to think of far off Ch’ang-an.<br />
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Clouds of hair wet with jewelled mist.<br />
Cold light on arms of jade.<br />
When will we two stir the silk curtains<br />
While one moon shows the stain of tears?<br />
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<strong>Note</strong>: Tu is in the occupied capital. The past glory is already distant in time. His wife and children are in Fu-chou in the north-east. Those who are parted are linked to each other through watching the same moon.</div>
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-58218908758316338352017-04-04T15:59:00.000-07:002017-04-04T15:59:19.055-07:00Du Fu (712-770)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3>
<span id="springinchangan">Spring in Ch’ang-an</span></h3>
Fallen States still have hills and streams.<br />
Cities, in Spring, have leaves and grass.<br />
Though tears well at half-open flowers.<br />
Though parted birds rise with secret fears.<br />
War beacons shine through triple moons.<br />
Home news is worth more than gold.<br />
Grey hairs, tugged at every disaster,<br />
Thin on this head that’s too small for its cap.<br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-29474682899388711742017-03-18T11:28:00.003-07:002017-03-18T11:28:50.702-07:00Su Tung-Po (1037-1101) (Su Shi)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h1 class="title">
Shui Tiao Ko Tou</h1>
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Will a moon so bright ever arise again? <br />Drink a cupful of wine and ask of the sky. <br />I don't know where the palace gate of heaven is, <br />Or even the year in which tonight slips by. <br />I want to return riding the whirl-wind! But I <br />Feel afraid that this heaven of jasper and jade <br />Lets in the cold, its palaces rear so high. <br />I shall get up and dance with my own shadow. <br />From life endured among men how far a cry! <br /><br />Round the red pavilion <br />Slanting through the lattices <br />Onto every wakeful eye, <br />Moon, why should you bear a grudge, O why <br />Insist in time of separation so th fill the sky? <br />Men know joy and sorow, parting and reunion; <br />The moon lacks lustre, brightly shines; is al, is less. <br />Perfection was never easily come by. <br />Though miles apart, could men but live for ever <br />Dreaming they shared this moonlight endlessly! </div>
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-56568666822791578612017-03-18T11:19:00.001-07:002017-03-18T11:19:07.994-07:00Hsu Yun (1840-1959)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: teal; font-size: x-small;"><b>Passing the Winter at Yunhua but not meeting up with my friend </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I came to this place where the trees are confusingly thick.<br />Suddenly in the arched vault of the forest I found a path.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I passed that stone... the one below the green pavilion.<br />There was frost on the leaves and the branch tips were bare and red.<br />Who was it who carved those emotional words in the rock?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I waited. Ah... All feelings,<br />Are they not just emptiness of "me"?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Chan gates both rest quietly now<br />With the plum trees and the grasses<br />Awaiting the winds of Spring. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-19732542257477808872017-03-18T11:14:00.000-07:002017-03-18T11:14:22.131-07:00THE GREAT HUNT RHAPSODY - Li Po (701-762)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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1 Examining into the imperial T'ang's securing heaven and earth and penetrating the vapor-mother, hsi! enlightening the five leaves' blossoming luxurience, 2 It was K'ai-yüan that initiated the vast lodging with its revolvings around the pole star, hsi! encompassing the Six Thearch's glorious splendour. 3 Born in golden virtue's pure essence, hsi! cleansed in the jade dew's flourescent nourishment. 4 Refined elegance flourishes among the seven brilliances, hsi! decrees and enactments are according to the double principles, he embraces all the mysteries and acts as a master. 5 His brightness leaves nothing shadowed or unenlightened, his sovereign morality leaves none distanced or unendowed. <br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-9691764361628201152017-03-07T17:55:00.001-08:002017-03-07T17:55:48.179-08:00Hsing Hsing Ming (Seng- Ts'an 529-606)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> Emptiness here, Emptiness there,<br /> but the infinite universe stands<br /> always before your eyes.<br /> Infinitely large and infinitely small:<br /> no difference, for definitions have vanished.<br /> and no boundaries are seen.<br /> So too with Being and non-Being.<br /> Don't waste time in doubts and arguments<br /> that have nothing to do with this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> One thing, all things:<br /> move among and intermingle,<br /> without distinction.<br /> To live in this realization<br /> is to be without anxiety about non-perfection.<br /> To live in this faith is the road to non-duality,<br /> because the non-dual is one with the trusting mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> Words!<br /> The Way is beyond language,<br /> for in it there is <br /> no yesterday<br /> no tomorrow<br /> no today.</span></div>
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-36206592155913550052017-03-07T17:50:00.000-08:002017-03-07T17:50:13.427-08:00Hồ Xuân Hương (1772-1822)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h1 class="title">
Spring-Watching Pavilion</h1>
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A gentle spring evening arrives <br />airily, unclouded by worldly dust. <br /><br />Three times the bell tolls echoes like a wave. <br />We see heaven upside-down in sad puddles. <br /><br />Love's vast sea cannot be emptied. <br />And springs of grace flow easily everywhere. <br /><br />Where is nirvana? <br />Nirvana is here, nine times out of ten. </div>
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Ho Xuan Huong :<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-30449157687649225682017-03-07T17:43:00.002-08:002017-03-07T17:43:25.601-08:00Chia Tao (779-843)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h1 class="title">
Spring Travel</h1>
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Keeping on and on, <br />a traveler gets farther, farther away; <br />dust of the world <br />follows an indefatigable horse. <br /><br />A traveler's feelings <br />after the sun's rays slant- <br />colors of spring <br />in the morning mist. <br /><br />The river's flow heard <br />at the empty inn- <br />flowers just blooming <br />at the old palace. <br /><br />I think of home <br />a thousand li away; <br />wind off the pond <br />stirs in green willows. </div>
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Chia Tao :<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-17808360705739530752017-03-04T05:13:00.002-08:002017-03-04T05:13:52.086-08:00Wang Wei (699-761)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2>
Fine Apricot Lodge<br />Wang Wei</h2>
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Fine apricot was cut for the roof beam,<br /> Fragrant cogon grass tied for the eaves.<br /> I know not when the cloud from this house<br /> Will go to make rain among the people. </div>
bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-86670193664796362992017-02-18T10:43:00.000-08:002017-02-18T10:43:54.015-08:00Yau Ywe-Hwa (Tang Dynasty)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Still He Does Not Come<br /> by Yau Ywe-Hwa (T'ang Dynasty)<br /><br /> I have been here a long time,<br /> Waiting<br /> With silver candles<br /> And sparkling wine,<br /> Walking up to the gate<br /> And back again,<br /> Watching for him<br /> Till it's nearly daylight.<br /><br /> Now the moon has set,<br /> The stars are few,<br /> And still he does not come.<br /><br /> Suddenly wingbeats drum<br /> In the misty willows;<br /> A magpie flies off.<br /><br /> In China the magpie is associated with happiness. In this case the happiness of the poetess is flying away.<br /><br /></div>
bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-19639001756112027022017-02-18T10:39:00.001-08:002017-02-18T10:39:06.830-08:00Li Qingzhao (1084-1155)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /> Li Qingzhao (Li Ching-chao, 1084-1155)<br /><br /> This year w<span class="style1"><span style="background-color: #f2ebf7;">ith </span></span>the end of autumn<br /> I find my reflection graying at the temples. <br /> Now that the evening wind is gaining force,<br /> what shall become of the plum blossoms?<br /></div>
bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-75364490413499494272017-02-18T10:32:00.000-08:002017-02-18T10:32:35.394-08:00Li Qingzhao (1084-1155)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Li Qingzhao (Li Ching-chao, 1084-1155)<br /><br /> The migrant songbird on the bough<span class="style2"> wet with dew<br /> brings </span><span class="style1"><span style="background-color: #f2ebf7;">t</span></span>ears to my eyes with her m<span class="style1"><span style="background-color: #f2ebf7;">elodious </span></span>trills—<br />this fresh downpour rewetting the stains of older spills;<br /> another spring gone, and still no word from you ...<br /><br /></div>
bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-18536902068270205272017-01-08T16:11:00.001-08:002017-01-08T16:11:50.738-08:00Su Shi (Su Tung Po- 1037-1101)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Visiting the Temple of the God of Mercy on a Rainy Day<br />Su Shi <br />
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The silkworms grow old,<br /> The wheat half yellow,<br /> The rain falls unrestrained about the mountain.<br /> The farmers cannot work the land,<br /> Nor women gather mulberry,<br /> The Immortals sit high in white robes in the hall.<br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-61662024192464825322017-01-01T09:32:00.002-08:002017-01-01T09:32:26.219-08:00Han Yu (768-824)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h1 class="title">
The Palace Of The Sui Emperor</h1>
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<div class="poem">
His Palace of Purple Spring has been taken by mist and cloud, <br />As he would have taken all Yangzhou to be his private domain <br />But for the seal of imperial jade being seized by the first Tang Emperor, <br />He would have bounded with his silken sails the limits of the world. <br />Fire-flies are gone now, have left the weathered grasses, <br />But still among the weeping-willows crows perch at twilight. <br />...If he meets, there underground, the Later Chen Emperor, <br />Do you think that they will mention a Song of Courtyard Flowers? </div>
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Han Yu :</div>
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-15600676979247788812016-12-29T12:44:00.001-08:002016-12-29T12:44:47.846-08:00Tu Mu (803-852)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
THE GARDEN OF THE GOLDEN VALLEY<br /><br />Stories of passion make sweet dust,<br />Calm water, grasses unconcerned.<br />At sunset, when birds cry in the wind,<br />Petals are falling like a girl s robe long ago.<br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-90730089713209991712016-12-24T16:50:00.000-08:002016-12-24T16:50:01.162-08:00Cai Yen (162-239CE)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span><strong>Cai Yen</strong> (162 – 239 CE)</span><br />
<span>The daughter of writer Cai Yi, himself a friend of the legendary Cao Cao, Cai Yen is considered the first great Chinese woman poet. Far from leading a scholastic life, she was captured by a Hun chieftain, to whom she bore two sons, before Cao Cao ransomed her and married her to one of his officers.</span><br />
<span></span><br />
<span>From <strong>18 Verses Sung to a Tatar Reed Whistle</strong></span><br />
<span></span><br />
<span>I was born in a time of peace,</span><br />
<span>But later the mandate of Heaven </span><br />
<span>Was withdrawn from the Han Dynasty.</span><br />
<span>Heaven was pitiless.</span><br />
<span>It sent down confusion and separation.</span><br />
<span>Earth was pitiless.</span><br />
<span>It brought me to birth in such a time.</span><br />
<span>War was everywhere. Every road was dangerous.</span><br />
<span>Soldiers and civilians everywhere</span><br />
<span>Fleeing death and suffering.</span><br />
<span>Smoke and dust clouds obscured the land</span><br />
<span>Overrun by the ruthless Tatar bands.</span><br />
<span>Our people lost their will power and integrity.</span><br />
<span>I can never learn the ways of the barbarians.</span><br />
<span>I am daily subject to violence and insult.</span><br />
<span>I sing one stanza to my lute and a Tatar horn.</span><br />
<span>But no one knows my agony and grief.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-25433325211306832962016-12-14T15:10:00.002-08:002016-12-14T15:10:50.482-08:00Meng Haoran (d.740)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
To Buddhist Priest Yuan From Chang'an<br />Meng Haoran <br />
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I'd often like to lie atop a hill,<br /> Instead I suffer hardship, lacking money.<br /> This northern land was never what I wished,<br /> Instead I think of my teacher in the eastern forest.<br /> Golden flecks in the ash of cassia wood,<br /> My great ideals decline more year by year.<br /> As the sun goes down, a chilling wind appears,<br /> To hear cicadas makes me sorrow more. <br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-40834810054220292362016-12-13T18:54:00.002-08:002016-12-13T18:54:25.112-08:00Du Fu (712-770)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="title">Climbing High</span> <br /><span class="poet">Du Fu</span> <br />
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Swift wind, heaven high, an ape's cry of grief,<br /> At the islet of clear white sand, birds circle round.<br /> Endlessly, trees shed leaves, rustling, rustling down,<br /> Without cease, the great river surges, surges on.<br /> Ten thousand miles in sorrowful autumn, always someone's guest,<br /> A hundred years full of sickness, I climb the terrace alone.<br /> Suffering troubles, I bitterly regret my whitening temples,<br /> Frustratingly I've had to abandon my cup of cloudy wine.<br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-71268954779572813342016-12-09T19:33:00.001-08:002016-12-09T19:37:16.504-08:00Chia Tao (779-843)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="left">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">WINTER NIGHT FAREWELL</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">At first light, you ride<br /> swiftly over the village bridge;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Plum blossoms fall<br /> on the stream and unmelted snow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">With the days short and the weather cold,<br /> it’s sad to see a guest depart;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Ch’u Mountains are boundless,<br /> and the road, remote.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-16954219510930236902016-12-07T00:46:00.001-08:002016-12-07T00:46:35.967-08:00Confucius (551-479BC)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="padding-left: 30px;">
“To put the world in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must first put the family in order; to put the family in order; we must first cultivate our personal life; we must first set our hearts right.”</div>
― Confucius<br />
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-33242427719710538102016-12-04T21:38:00.001-08:002016-12-04T21:38:25.602-08:00Yang Wanli (1127-1206)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Listening To The Rain</h1>
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A year ago my boat, homeward bound, <br />moored at Yen-ling- <br />I was kept awake all night by the rain <br />beating against the sails <br />. Last night the rain fell on the thatched roof <br />of my house. <br />I dreamed of che sound of rain <br />beating against the sails. </div>
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Yang Wanli :<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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bambooandplumblossomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03926272018387422609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6290589054581515582.post-28080001992015019442016-12-01T11:35:00.001-08:002016-12-01T11:35:59.709-08:00Huang Po (d.850)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On Fear: <em></em><br />
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<em> Ordinary people look to their surroundings, while followers of the Way look to Mind, but the true Dharma is to forget them both. The former is easy enough, the latter very difficult. Men are afraid to forget their minds, fearing to fall through the Void with nothing to stay their fall. They do not know that the Void is not really void, but the realm of the real Dharma. </em></div>
- Huang Po<br />
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