(385–433)
Visiting Pai-an Pavilion
BESIDE this dike, I shake off the world’s dust,
enjoying walks alone near my brushwood house.
A small stream gurgles down a rocky gorge.
Mountains rise beyond the trees,
kingfisher blue, almost beyond description,
but reminding me of the fisherman’s simple life.
From a grassy bank, I listen
as springtime fills my heart.
Finches call and answer in the oaks.
Deer cry out, then return to munching weeds.
I remember men who knew a hundred sorrows,
and the gratitude they felt for gifts.
Joys and sorrows pass, each by each,
failure at one moment, happy success the next.
But not for me. I have chosen freedom
from the world’s cares. I chose simplicity.
[S.H.]
Written on the Lake While Returning to Stone Cliff Hermitage
DAWN to dusk, the weather constantly changed,
mountain and lake sometimes vibrant in sunlight,
bright sunlight that made me so happy
I forgot about going home.
Leaving the valley at daybreak,
I didn’t disembark until dusk,
forest and gorge clothed in shadows,
sunset clouds melting into evening mist.
There were water chestnuts and lotus,
cattails and rushes growing thickly.
I had to push them aside to pass southward,
happy to be reaching my home in the east.
When the mind stops striving, the world’s not a problem.
A constant heart won’t waver from the truth.
A few words to nurture the living, to say:
follow this teaching if you want to know the way.
[S.H.]