Zen poems

[philg]

Red Peonies in a Jar
Afraid that the autumn wind
might be jealous of the peonies,
I cut a branch and put it
in a porcelain vase.
The heavy curtains are drawn,
the doors are closed—
why do the petals keep falling off?

Yang Wanli

[philg]

Written on Master Hengzhao’s Wall

A Zen path
The autumn moss grows over;
Icy windows bear streaks
Of rain.

The true mind
mysteriously integrates Itself,
but who appreciates
Good poems? Dew chills;
Cricket noises muffle.
A light wind fans
Shadows of foliage.

As if intent,
All day in the window
White clouds.

Jianzhang

[Aloka]

Those who see worldly life as an obstacle to Dharma
see no Dharma in everyday actions.
They have not yet discovered that
there are no everyday actions outside of Dharma.

~ Dogen

[philg]

In Response to a Request to “Explain the Secret
Teaching”

If I explained aloud, then it wouldn’t be a true explanation,
And if I transmitted it on paper, then where would be the secret?
At a western window on a rainy autumn night,
White hair in the guttering lamplight, asleep facing the bed ...

Guido Shushin


Sweeping leaves

Lacking cash to buy firewood,
I sweep up leaves from the road in front,
Each one as valuable as gold;
Piled up like gorgeous red brocades,
I covet them greedily for warming my knees
And to bring some comfort to my cold heart:
I’ll take them back to burn in the hearth while I sit in meditation,
And return to listening to the rain dripping on the steps.

Ryushu Shutaki

[philg]

An Autumn Evening in the Hills

Through empty hills new washed by rain
As dusk descends the autumn comes;
Bright moonlight falls through pines,
Clear springs flow over stones;
The bamboos rustle as girls return from washing,
Lotus flowers stir as a fishing boat casts off;
Faded the fragrance of spring,
Yet, friend, there is enough to keep you here.

Wang Wei

[philg]

Night Snow
I wondered why the covers felt so cold,
and then I saw how bright my window was.
Night far gone, I know the snow must be deep-
from time to time I hear the bamboos cracking.

Bai Juyi



I am imprisoned in my cottage among the solitary hills,
And think about the wet snow driving outside my window.
The cries of black monkeys are echoed by rocky summits.
The icy stream runs hushed at the bottom of the valley.
The flaming light by the window is chilled to its core,
And frost-dry is the ink-slab I have placed on my desk.
The night has thus prevented me from falling to repose.
I employ my brush, often warming it with my own breath.

Ryokan

[philg]

The wind is gentle,
The moon is bright.
Come then, together
We’ll dance the night out
As a token of old age.

Ryokan