On the Spot where Shih Chia Tzu
Sits in Meditation
Ten thousand trees
cold forest
as I came up through the blue greens of the hillside.
Wafting in the wind
white crane, my feathery head
a long time beyond scheming
a long time beyond scheming
the sound of the stream
is, after all,
without a present, or a past.
The beauty of the mountain colors:
what could it have to do
with "right" or "wrong"?
The lush grass of the high pass
may certainly mislead
the wanderer's clogs
Cliffside flowers
sometimes fall
on a robe that's sitting zazen.
If you ask the teacher
when
he came to sit on T'ien-t'ai Mountain:
"Green pines I planted
with my own hands:
ten hands' span, now."
-- Ching An, 1851-1912
