“People ask for the road to Cold Mountain” by Hanshan [w/ Audio]

People ask for the road to Cold Mountain,
but no road reaches Cold Mountain.
Summer sky -- still ice won't melt.
The sun comes out but gets obscured by mist.
Imitating me, where does that get you?
My mind isn't like yours.
When your mind is like mine
You can enter here.

Translated by Kazuaki Tanahashi & David Schneider in Essential Zen (1994) SanFransisco: HarperCollins, p. 2

“The Debt” by Paul Laurence Dunbar [w/ Audio]

This is the debt I pay
Just for one riotous day,
Years of regret and grief,
Sorrow without relief.

Pay it I will to the end --
Until the grave, my friend,
Gives me a true release --
Gives me the clasp of peace.

Slight was the thing I bought,
Small was the debt I thought,
Poor was the loan at best --
God! but the interest!

“The Yak” by Hilaire Belloc [w/ Audio]

As a friend to the children commend me the Yak.
You will find it exactly the thing:
It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back,
Or lead it about with a string.

The Tartar who dwells on the plains of Thibet
(A desolate region of snow)
Has for centuries made it a nursery pet,
And surely the Tartar should know!

Then tell your papa where the Yak can be got,
And if he is awfully rich
He will buy you the creature -- or else he will not.
(I cannot be positive which.)

“Parting at Morning” by Robert Browning [w/ Audio]

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:
And straight was a path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of men for me.

“Banish Air from Air” (963) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

Banish Air from Air --
Divide Light if you dare --
They'll meet
While Cubes in a Drop
Or Pellets of Shape
Fit --
Films cannot annul
Odors return whole
Force Flame
And with a Blonde push
Over your impotence
Flits Steam.

Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare [w/ Audio]

That time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me though seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

“Spring Dawn” (春曉) by Meng Haoran [w/ Audio]

My Spring sleep is unswayed by dawn --
Though birds are heard through screen, still drawn.
Recalling night sounds of rain and wind,
I wonder how the flowers have thinned?

Original in Chinese:

春眠不覺曉,
處處聞啼鳥。
夜來風雨聲,
花落知多少。

“The quality of mercy is not strained” by William Shakespeare [w/ Audio]

The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.
Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

From The Merchant of Venice (Act IV, Scene I.) Spoken in a court of law by Portia while she is disguised as a lawyer, Balthazar.

“Shiloh: A Requiem” by Herman Melville [w/ Audio]

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
The forest-field of Shiloh--
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
Around the church of Shiloh--
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
And natural prayer
Of dying foemen mingled there--
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve--
Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
And all is hushed in Shiloh.

“Beginners” by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]

How they are provided for upon the earth,
(appearing at intervals;)
How dear and dreadful they are to the earth;
How they inure to themselves as much as to
any -- What a paradox appears their age;
How people respond to them, yet know them not;
How there is something relentless in their fate,
all times;
How all times mischoose the objects of their
adulation and reward,
And how the same inexorable price must still
be paid for the same great purchase.