I came once to Tiantai,
And back ten-thousand times.
Like clouds or water tides:
Drift and flow, come and go.
I stroll, free of worry,
Buddha's Path - in no hurry.
While the world's forked roads
Lead men to fret and scurry.
No man is an island,
Entire of itself;
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less,
As well as if a promontory were:
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were.
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know
for whom the bell tolls;
I tolls for thee.
What have you been putting off doing? Why?
Answering this prompt, apparently. It’s been around several times now – I think.
Why? No good answer came to mind, before now.
at cliff's edge,
the swaying red poppy,
lures one closer.
the monk rode in
on a bright-eyed tiger, and
started hulling rice.
In Spring, the waters rise --
Shore grass sways with breezes,
And geese drift right beside;
Boats glide as the stream pleases.
Yon pagoda looks far,
but feels quite close.
Streamside, one feels a chill.
Fields have yet to be plowed --
Not while the torrents spill.
Mulberry limbs are bowed.
Soon we'll have a taste,
and harvest cocoons.
NOTE: The title of this poem is 蝶 戀 花. Xu Yuanchong uses the quite literal “Butterflies in Love with Flowers” as his translated title. I chose differently because a wet Spring is the throughline of the poem and, well, there are no explicit butterflies (or flowers) in the poem [only their potential.] Of course, maybe that’s exactly why the original is a great title.
clouds drift upon
mirror clear waters;
dead tree stillness.
