The Mountain Poems of Stonehouse by Pine, Red, Stonehouse -- Read -- Imperial Library of Trantor

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Cover Title Page Note to Reader Dedication Contents Preface Introduction Seven-Syllable Verses

1. I made my home west of Cha River 2. To glimpse the fluttering of shy birds 3. Grave upon grave buried beneath weeds 4. A paper-window bamboo hut a hedge of hibiscus 5. To glorify the Way what should people turn to 6. Movement isn’t right and stillness is wrong 7. Below the pines its twin doors are never closed 8. More than twenty years west of Mount Yen 9. Green gullies and red cliffs wherever I look 10. Don’t think a mountain home means you’re free 11. My hut is at the top of Hsia Summit 12. After twenty years of nights beneath the moon and the clouds 13. Seclusion of course means far from the world 14. I entered the mountains and learned to be dumb 15. The streams are so clear and shallow I can see pebbles 16. A white-haired Zen monk with a hut for my home 17. I sleep in the clouds where the sun doesn’t shine 18. My Zen hut rests upon rocks at the summit 19. The Great Way has never known abundance or want 20. My broken-down hut rests upon rocks 21. A human life lasts one hundred years 22. A trail through green mist red clouds and bamboo 23. A monk on his own sits quiet and relaxed 24. I may be white-haired and nothing but bones 25. I chose high cliffs far from a market 26. Their zigzagging sails crowd government quays 27. Who enters this gate who studies this teaching 28. A friend of seclusion arrives at my gate 29. A hundred years pass by in a flash 30. I entered the mountains and my cares became clear 31. This body lasts about as long as a bubble 32. I saw through my worldly concerns of the past 33. Day after day I let things go 34. A white-haired monk afflicted with age 35. Profit and fame aren’t worth extolling 36. I was a Zen monk who didn’t know Zen 37. I’ve lived as a hermit more than forty years 38. Scorpion tails and wolf hearts pervade the world 39. The crow and the hare race without rest 40. A thatch hut in blue mountains beside a green stream 41. The ancients entered mountains in search of the Way 42. Everything’s growth depends on its roots 43. I live in the mountains in order to practice 44. I searched high and low without success 45. Old but at peace in body and mind 46. Opening my door at dawn to fetch water 47. I built a thatched hut deep in the clouds 48. Examine the patterns of transient existence 49. To get to the end the very end 50. I’m a poor but happy follower of the Way 51. You know very well yet seem not to know 52. The shame of dumb ideas is suffered by the best 53. A round head and square robe constitute a monk 54. The sunrise in the east the sunset in the west 55. The Way of the Dharma is too singular to copy 56. There isn’t much time in this fleeting life

Five-Syllable Verses

57. Followers of the Way are done with reason 58. A hoe provides a living 59. Most of the time I smile 60. Reasoning comes to an end 61. The landscape unrolls from the cliffs 62. A winding muddy trail 63. A monk’s home in the mountains 64. Where did that gust come from 65. From the very top of Hsiawushan 66. A hoe supplies a living 67. Lunch in my mountain kitchen 68. True emptiness is like a translucent sea 69. The Eighth Month in the mountains 70. A thatch hut in a bamboo grove 71. As soon as the red sun bites the mountain 72. I hiked staff in hand beyond the pines 73. On a ten-thousand-story-high mountain 74. Advancing or retiring grasping or letting go 75. I weave rush grass for my hut

Seven-Syllable Quatrains

76. A thatch hut is lonely on a new fall night 77. Mountains of fiddleheads garden of tea 78. Someone asked what year I arrived 79. If you hate hard work and like to loaf 80. Old and retired I nurse a sick body 81. Novices don’t stay to stir the fire 82. Jade-hall silver-candle nights of song 83. All those I meet say the world’s ways are hard 84. There’s nothing going on in my mountain kitchen 85. I plant winter melon then aubergine 86. Will the porridge or rice ever end 87. Eight or nine pines behind his hut 88. This is something no one can force 89. What’s gone is already gone 90. Three or four naps every day 91. The flux of attachments is easy to stop 92. True emptiness is clear and always present 93. Sky Lake is a pool of aquamarine 94. Old and exhausted I’m truly lazy 95. Old through and through I’m utterly lazy 96. There’s no dust to sweep on a mountain 97. My hut is two maybe three mats wide 98. Why do my Zen friends choose smoke and vines 99. A clean patch of ground after a rain 100. Ten thousand schemes and fantasies have ended 101. My home in the cliffs is like a tomb 102. There’s a snag in front like a standing man 103. Up-and-down mountain zigzag trail 104. A hundred years slip by unnoticed 105. There’s a road to the West nobody takes 106. Try to find what’s real and what’s real becomes more distant 107. Trying to become a buddha is easy 108. Stripped of conditions my mind is at rest 109. Work with no mind and all work stops 110. No mind in my work the wind blows through the trees 111. New year head old year tail 112. Head of white hair shoulders all bones 113. Before I can finish the Lankavatara 114. Corpses don’t stink in the mountains 115. Rain soaks my hut then the sun shines 116. No one else sees what I see clearly 117. Half the window pine shadows half the window moon 118. Not one care in mind all year 119. For dinner I cook a bowl of old rice 120. I moved west into a maze of peaks 121. Mountain wind ripped out my old paper windows 122. The setting sun’s cold light fills half the window 123. A few trees in bloom radiant red 124. I shut my door before the clouds return 125. After porridge after rice after drinking tea 126. Dense fog and clouds too thick to push away 127. As soon as the sun lights the southeast sky 128. I eat a peach spit out the pit the pit becomes a tree 129. My hut isn’t quite ten feet across 130. Don’t run away when he strikes 131. Our time is confined to one hundred years 132. The whole Buddhist Canon is worthless old paper 133. Leaves along the shore stop and flow with the stream 134. Hsiawu is high and the trail is long 135. I feel old and decrepit and weaker by the day 136. A hermit’s hut is lonely encircled by bamboo 137. People say everyday mind isn’t our buddha nature 138. East or west north or south then back again 139. What sort of work takes place in the mountains 140. Too long away from monasteries I don’t have a cushion 141. When my clothes come apart I plant hemp 142. Parched wheat and pine pollen make a fine meal 143. Life in the mountains depends on a hoe 144. I repair my hoe and let my hut lean 145. From outside my round pointed-roof hut 146. I built a thatch hut beneath tall pines 147. Late autumn rain is all mist 148. When the red sun climbs above the blue mountains 149. My hut is so secluded it’s beyond the reach of dust 150. Now that I’m old nothing disturbs me 151. After meditation I chant a Cold Mountain poem 152. For property monks apply at an office 153. I put mulberry wood in the stove to make charcoal 154. Last year my food supply failed me 155. A pointed-roof hut in the shade of the clouds 156. How could someone who practices not become a buddha 157. I sit and meditate in the quiet and dark 158. Jade-winged plum blossoms perfumed trees 159. Good and bad fortune never lose their way 160. A lotus-leaf robe keeps me warm when I’m cold 161. My newly sewn paper quilt is so warm 162. I chop green wood and lift the pole 163. It’s hard to say if the year has been hot or cold 164. Surrounding the summit is nothing but pines 165. Sewing purple robes with fine yellow silk 166. Spring is gone summer is gone and autumn is cool 167. The people I meet are busy night and day 168. People all know about death and rebirth 169. People all say there is time to cultivate

Other Verses

170. To Redcurtain Mountain and Sky Lake Spring 171. A clear sky and nothing planned I climbed Hsia Summit 172. Magpies talk magpie outside my hut 173. The trees in the forest grow new leaves 174. Cold Mountain has a line 175. The moon lights up my door 176. After a meal I dust off a boulder and sleep 177. If you don’t read sutras when you’re young 178. I planted a few hills of beans 179. Whenever the mountain enjoys a good rain 180. I built my hut on a desolate ridge 181. Letting go means letting everything go 182. My broken-down hut isn’t three rafters wide 183. I built my hut on top of Hsia Summit 184. A couple of impoverished monks

About the Author Also by Red Pine Acknowledgments Copyright Special Thanks Index

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