On the Spot Where Shi Jia Zi (Shih Chia Tzu) Sits in Meditation - Ching An

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 

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      

Opposite a Post-Station, The Boat Moonlight Beside a Monastery - Tu Fu

Opposite a Post-Station, The Boat Moonlight Beside a Monastery

My boat mirroring a clear, bright moon,
Deep in the night, I leave lanterns unlit:

A gold monastery beyond green maples,
A red post tower here beside white water,

Faint, drifting from a city, a crow's cry fades.
Full of wild grace, egrets sleep.

Hair, white, a guest of lakes and rivers,
I tie blinds open, and sit alone, sleepless.

-Tu Fu (712-770)
Translated by David Hinton in 'Mountain Home: the Wilderness poetry of Ancient China', 2014, pg 115

Gathering Firewood - Meng Hao-Jan

Gathering Firewood

Gathering firewood, I enter mountain depths
mountain depths rising creek beyond creek,
Choked with the timbers of bridges in ruins.

Vines tumble low, tangled over cragged paths
And at dusk, scarce people grow scarcer still. 

Mountain winds sweeping through simple robes,
My chant steady, I shoulder a light bundle.
Watch smoke drift across open country home. 


Meng Hao-Jan (689-7400
Translated by David Hinton - in 'Mountain Home: The Wilderness Poetry of Ancient China', 2014, pg 42

Turning Seasons - T'ao Ch'ien

Turning Seasons

Turning seasons turning wildly away,
Morning's majestic calm unfolds.

Out in spring clothes, I roam eastern fields 
Lingering clouds sweep mountains clean. 

Gossamer mist blurs open skies 
And soon, feeling south winds, pine boughs ripple like wings.

- T'ao Ch'ien (365-437) - Translated by David Hinton in 'Mountain Home'



 ...'young grain ripples like wings'.

In Reply to Mulberry-Bramble Liu-- Tao Qian (T'ao Ch'ien), 5th CE

This poem from Mountain Home: the Wilderness poetry of ancient China, selected and translated by David Hinton, published by Counterpoint Washington DC in the year 2002 ISBN +1-058-243-1493

This poem written by Tao Ch'ien (Tao Qian, 5th ce)
titled "In reply to Mulberry-Bramble Liu"


In this meager home, guests rare, 
I often forget I'm surrounded by turning seasons.

And now falling leaves litter courtyard emptiness 
I grow sadder realizing it's Autumn already. 
Fresh sunflower thickets fill north windows 
Sweet grains in south fields ripen. 

Though I'm far from happy, I know next year may never come. 
"Get the kids together," I call to my wife,
"it's a perfect day for a nice long walk."