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Zen Calligraphy by
We shall not cease
from exploration, And the end of all our exploring, Will be to arrive where we started, And know the place for the first time. -T.S. Eliot
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| Muso Soseki | Ryokan |
| Untitled | To my Teacher |
| Incomparable Verse Valley | Untitled |
| Old Man in Retirement | Untitled |
| Untitled | |
| Saigyo | Playing with the Children |
| Poems by Saigyo | Untitled |
| Untitled | |
| Jakushitsu | Untitled |
| Untitled | |
| Gensei | |
| Ryonen | Letting the Brush Write Anything it Wants |
| Untitled | |
| Eihei Dogen | |
| Kenji Miyazawa | Untitled |
| November 3rd | Yearning for the Ancient Ways |
| Daichi-zenji | Zenkei Shibayama |
| Living on Hogi Mountain - 3 poems | Scripture of no Letters |
| Soen Nakagawa | |
| Untitled |
In the real world
the pure world
no separation exists
why wait
for another time
and another meeting
the teaching
on Vulture Peak
is here today
who else
are you looking for
to preserve the Way?
Muso Soseki (1275-1351)
trans. W.S. Merwin and Soiku Shigematsu
The sounds of the stream
splash out
the Buddha's sermon
Don't say
that the deepest meaning
comes only from one's mouth
Day and night
eighty thousand poems
arise one after the other
and in fact
not a single word
has ever been spoken
Muso Soseki
trans. Merwin and Shigematsu
I stop worrying about anything
I give up activities
I'm full of my life
I no longer
go to the temple
evening and morning
If they ask me
“What are you doing
in your old age?”
I smile and tell them
“I'm letting my white hair
fall free.”
Muso Soseki
trans. Merwin and Shigematsu
By the roadside
cool spring water flowing
In the shade of a willow
I stop
and linger
Saigo (1117-1790)
trans. Nonin Chowaney
Next to my own
it would be good to have
another's shadow
cast here in the pool of moonlight
leaked into my hut of bamboo grass
Yoshino mountains –
the one who will get to know
you inside-out is I,
for I've gotten used to going
into your depths for blossoms
I thought I was free
of passions, so this melancholy
comes as a surprise:
a woodcock shoots up from a marsh
where autumn twilight falls.
Saigo (1117-1790)
trans. William R. LaFleur
The jewel under
the black dragon's jaw
is not easily obtained
More difficult yet
to find a like-minded friend
Alone.
Savoring the flavor of leisure
White haired
I face the green mountain
Jakushitsu
trans. Arthur Braverman
Sixty six times have these eyes beheld the
Changing scene of autumn.
I have said enough about moonlight,
Ask no more.
Only listen to the voice of pines and cedars
When no wind stirs.
Ryonen (1797-1863)
trans. Paul Reps
neither yielding to rain
nor yielding to wind
yielding neither to
snow nor to summer heat
with a stout body
like that
without greed
never getting angry
always smiling quiet-
ly
eating one and a half pieces of brown rice
and bean paste and a bit of
vegetables a day
in everything
not taking oneself
into account
looking listening understanding well
and not forgetting
living in the shadow of pine trees in a field
in a small
hut thatched with miscanthus
if in the east there's a
sick child
going and nursing
him
if in the west there is a tired mother
going and for her
carrying
bundles of rice
if in the south
there's someone
dying
going
and saying
you don't have to be
afraid
if in the north
there's a quarrel
or a lawsuit
saying it's not worth it
stop it
in a drought
shedding tears
in a cold summer
pacing back and forth lost
called
a good-for-nothing
by everyone
neither praised
nor thought a pain
someone
like that
is what I want
to be
Kenji Miyazawa (1896-1933)
trans. Hiroaki Sato
1.
I have lived alone
in this hut
For twenty years,
Never going
to the village below
with begging bowl.
Carrying a basket,
I picked ripened fruit
from a thousand trees
And after eating,
sleep on a stone pillow
by the mountain creek.
2.
I burn incense
and sit alone in zazen
under a tall pine tree.
Wind blows cold dew
and wets my robe.
In the fifth watch,
I get up, go down
to the two ravines,
And bring back a pitcher
containing the moon.
3.
Far and near,
mountains wreathed
by haze,
Unfolding
like a sumi-e painting
in subtle shades.
Above and beyond,
mind is calm
and clear
So difficult to express
to those not seeking
the Way.
Daichi-zenji (1290-1366)
trans. Dainin Katagiri
and Nonin Chowaney
Looking for serenity
you have come
to the monastery.
Looking for serenity
I am leaving
the monastery.
Kwatz!
Stop running about seeking!
The dusty affairs of the world
fill the day,
fill the night.
Soen Nakagawa (1907-1984)
trans. Kazuaki Tanahashi
and Roko Sherry Chayat
An old grave hidden away at the foot of a
deserted hill,
Overrun with rank weeds growing unchecked year
after year;
There is no one left to tend the tomb,
And only an occasional woodcutter passes by.
Once I was his pupil, a youth with shaggy hair,
Learning deeply from him by the Narrow River.
One morning I set off on my solitary journey
And the years passed between us in silence.
Now I have returned to find him at rest here;
How can I honor this departed spirit?
I pour a dipper of pure water over his tombstone
And offer a silent prayer.
The sun suddenly disappears behind the hill
And I'm enveloped by the roar of the wind in the pines.
I try to pull myself away but cannot;
A flood of tears soaks my sleeves.
Ryokan (1758-1831)
trans. John Stevens
If someone asks
My abode
I reply:
“The east edge of
The Milky Way.”
Like a drifting cloud,
Bound by nothing:
I just let go
Giving myself up
To the whim of the wind
Ryokan
trans. John Stevens
I've never bothered about getting ahead
But just gone leisurely along
letting things take their way
In my bag are three measures of rice
A bundle of firewood sits by the hearth
Who cares about delusion and enlightenment?
What use is there in fame and fortune?
In my hut, I listen to the evening rain
And stretch my legs without a care in the world
Ryokan
trans. Ryuichi Abe
and Peter Haskel
Talk is always easy
Practice always hard
It's no wonder people try to make up for
their lack of hard practice with easy talk
But the harder they try, the worse things get
The more they talk, the more wrong they go
It's like pouring on oil to put out a fire
Just foolishness and nothing else
Ryokan
trans. Ryuichi Abe and Peter Haskel
Early spring
The landscape is tinged with the first
fresh hints of green
Now I take my wooden begging bowl
And wander carefree through town
The moment the children see me
They scamper off gleefully to bring their friends
They're waiting for me at the temple gate
Tugging from all sides so I can barely walk
I leave my bowl on a white rock
Hang my pilgrim's bag on a pine tree branch
First we duel with blades of grass
Then we play ball
While I bounce the ball, they sing the song
Then I sing the song and they bounce the ball
Caught up in the excitement of the game
We forget completely about the time
Passersby turn and question me:
“Why are you carrying on like this?”
I just shake my head without answering
Even if I were able to say something
how could I explain?
Do you really want to know the meaning of it all?
This is it! This is it!
Ryokan
trans. Ryuichi Abe and Peter Haskel
The sun sets, and all living things cease to stir
I, too, close my brushwood gate
A few crickets begin to chirp
The color of grasses and trees has faded
Burning stick after stick of incense
I meditate through the long autumn night
When my body gets cold, I put on more clothes
Practice hard, fellow students of Zen!
Time is gone before you realize
Ryokan
trans. Ryuichi Abe and Peter Haskel
The rain has stopped, the clouds have drifted away,
and the weather is clear again.
If your heart is pure, then all things in your world are pure.
Abandon this fleeting world, abandon yourself,
Then the moon and flowers will guide you along the Way
Ryokan
trans. John Stevens
Light sleep, the bane of old age:
Dozing off, evening dreams, waking again.
The fire in the hearth flickers; all night a steady rain
Pours off the banana tree.
Now is the time I wish to share my feelings –
But there is no one.
Ryokan
trans. John Stevens
I.
My mind completes the Dharma
of No Birth,
my mouth intones rhymeless poems,
my mother's old and I'm sick most
of the time –
if I weren't happy, I'd be a fool for
sure.
II.
I strain for wisdom, get stupider
than ever,
work at cleverness only to become
more clumsy.
What I really love are there
children's songs –
they have no tune, and yet
they have true tune.
III.
Spring waters, patterned in pointless
beauty
summer clouds making strange
peaks of their own –
if you'll just set aside your
theories.
We can begin to talk about poetry
Gensei
trans. Burton Watson
Coming, going, the waterfowl
Leaves not a trace.
Nor does it need a guide
Zen Master Dogen (1200-1254)
trans. Kazuaki Tanahashi and
Taigen Dan Leighton
The way of the ancestor's coming
from the West
I transmit to the East
Yearning for the ancient ways,
Catching the moon,
Cultivating the clouds,
Untouched by worldly dust
Fluttering about
A thatched hut, snow evening,
deep mountain
Zen Master Dogen
trans. Tanahashi and
Taigen Dan Leighton
fresh, pure
dewy flowers
birds singing
clear and bright
calm clouds
blue waters
who has written
the true word
of no letters?
. . .
lofty mountains
green trees
deep valleys
lucid streams
soft wind
serene moon
i calmly read
the true word
of no letters
Zenkei Shibayama (1894-1974)
trans. Nonin Chowaney
Zen in Japanese Poetry