(701–761)
Visiting the Mountain Hermitage of a Monk at Gan-hua Monastery
HE waits as at dusk, bamboo walking stick in hand,
at the headwaters of Tiger Creek,
leading us on as we listen to mountain echoes,
following the water’s way.
Patches of wildflowers bloom.
A solitary bird calls from the valley floor.
We sit evening zazen in the empty forest:
quiet pine winds bring the scent of autumn.
[S.H.]
Passing Hsiang-chi Temple
OBLIVIOUS, I pass Hsiang-chi Temple,
walking on through mountain clouds,
an empty trail through ancient trees.
Deep in the mountains, a bell resounds.
The susurrus river flows among stones.
Sunlight streams through frozen pines.
In this still pool, in falling light,
Zen overcomes the serpents of delusion.
[S.H.]
The Way to the Temple
SEARCHING for Gathered Fragrance Temple:
miles of mountains rise into clouds,
ancient trees darken the narrow trail.
Where is that mountain temple bell?
Snowmelt crashes down on boulders,
the sun grows cold in the pines before
it drowns in the lake. Keep your karma
in good working order: many dragons lie in wait.
[S.H.]
Crossing the Yellow River
A LITTLE boat on the great river
whose waves reach the end of the sky—
suddenly a great city, ten thousand
houses dividing sky from wave.
Between the towns there are
hemp and mulberry trees in the wilds.
Look back on the old country:
wide waters; clouds; and rising mist.
[S.H.]
To Magistrate Chang
LATE, I love but quietness:
things of this world are no more my concern.
Looking back, I’ve known no better plan
than this: returning to the grove.
Pine breezes loosen my robe.
Mountain moonbeams play my lute.
What, you ask, is Final Truth?
The fisherman’s song strikes deep into the bank.
[J.P.S.]