BOOK: “The Poetry of Zen” Ed. / Trans. Sam Hamill & J.P. Seaton

The Poetry of ZenThe Poetry of Zen by Sam Hamill
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Publisher Site – Shambhala

This poetry anthology consists of translations of Chinese and Japanese poetry that play in the Zen aesthetic. They are not Zen Buddhist poetry in the sense of being sutras or sutra-like expositions on Buddhist philosophy or theology (at least, not mostly.) And while there are many monks and Buddhist layperson poets represented, not all of those included were Buddhists. (In fact, there is even some verse from the Daodejing included, though Taoism is certainly philosophically related to Zen.)

About half the book is Chinese poetry, including pieces from Han Shan, Li Bai, Bai Juyi, Wang Wei, Du Fu, and many other greats of Chinese poetry. (Note: my spellings of author names varies from those used in the book because Hamill and Seaton use Wade-Giles spellings.) The other half of the book consists of works by Japanese poets, including: Saigyo, Dogen, Basho, Ryokan, Buson, Issa, and others. The Japanese part includes a few haibun (prose poems interspersed with haiku,) adaptations of Chinese-style poems, as well as the various Japanese fixed form styles (i.e.. haiku, tanka, etc.)

The two translators, Sam Hamill and J.P. Seaton, initial the poems that each translated (some were dually translated and others singularly.) I enjoyed the translations and felt they were fine reading in their own right. With haiku and tanka, the translators stuck fairly close to the traditional form (in as much as the aesthetic could be maintained doing so,) but with Chinese lyric styles they often took a freer approach to form.

If you’re interested in poetry that conveys Zen sentiment, this book is worth investigating.

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“Indian River” by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]

The trade-wind jingles the rings in the nets around the racks
by the docks on Indian River.
It is the same jingle of the water among the roots under the
banks of the palmettoes,
It is the same jingle of the red-bird breasting the orange-trees
out of the cedars
Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor
on the nunnery beaches.

“Aliens” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]

The chatter of little people   
Breaks on my purpose
Like the water-drops which slowly wear the rocks to powder.
And while I laugh
My spirit crumbles at their teasing touch.

“Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell” (1493) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell
Be once disclosed to us
The clamor for their loveliness
Would burst the Loneliness —

Wen Fu 11 “Banal & Sublime” [文赋十一] by Lu Ji [陆机] [w/ Audio]

Some shoots and stalks stand out --
Taller than the masses.
Their form eludes pursuit,
Sound slips through, like gases.
Great lines are always disjunct:
Don't weave with mid'ling lyrics.
They're pent up and peerless:
Chop them? A win that's pyrrhic.
Jade flecks make mountains shimmer,
Pearly waters enchant.
The thicket mustn't be clipped
If Kingfisher's glory, grant.
Stitched words end under snow,
Work the weft, steady and slow.

The original in Simplified Chinese is:

或苕发颖竖,离众绝致。
形不可逐,响难为系。
块孤立而特峙,非常音之所纬。
心牢落而无偶,意徘徊而不能揥。
石韫玉而山辉,水怀珠而川媚。
彼榛楛之勿翦,亦蒙荣于集翠。
缀下里于白雪,吾亦济夫所伟。

BOOKS: “A Journey to Inner Peace and Joy” by Zhang Jianfeng [Trans. by Tony Blishen]

A Journey to Inner Peace and Joy: Tracing Contemporary Chinese Hermits by Zhang Jianfeng (2015-04-07)A Journey to Inner Peace and Joy: Tracing Contemporary Chinese Hermits by Zhang Jianfeng by Unknown Author
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Publisher Site

In 1993, Bill Porter (a.k.a. Red Pine) came out with a book called “Road to Heaven” that documented his experiences meeting with hermits in rural China. For many, both in and certainly out of China, the continued existence of this lifestyle might have come as a surprise. This book follows up over twenty years later, showing that Buddhists and Daoist hermits are still alive and well in the mountains of interior China.

The book not only offers beautiful descriptions of the lands where these men and women live, but also insight into their mindsets and how they live such minimalist lives. It’s a light and compelling look at individuals like those one might read of in “Outlaws of the Marsh,” only living in the present day (though living lives not unlike their historical counterparts did more than a thousand years ago.)

The book offers many color photos of the hermits and the landscapes in which they live.

I’d highly recommend this book for anyone interested in the way of reclusive existence.

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“‘Truth,’ said a traveller” [Poem XXVIII] by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]

“Truth,” said a traveller, 
“Is a rock, a mighty fortress;
“Often have I been to it,
“Even to its highest tower,
“From whence the world looks black.”


“Truth,” said a traveller,
“Is a breath, a wind,
“A shadow, a phantom;
“Long have I pursued it,
“But never have I touched
“The hem of its garment.”


And I believed the second traveller;
For truth was to me
A breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom,
And never had I touched
The hem of its garment.

“Bad Government” by Guan Xiu [贯休] [w/ Audio]

“Venerable Ingatha” by Guan Xiu [One of his 16 Arahat paintings]
Sleet and rain, as if the pot were boiling.
Winds whack like the crack of an axe.
An old man, an old man,
At sunset, crept into my hut.
He sighed. He sighed as if to himself,
"These rulers, so cruel. Why, tell me
Why they must steal till we starve,
Then slice the skin from our bones?

For a song from some beauty,
They'll go back on sworn words;
For a song from some tart,
They'll tear down our huts;
For a sweet song or two,
They'll slaughter ten thousand like me,
Like you. Weep as you will,
Let your hair turn white,
Let your whole clan go hungry...
No good wind will blow,
No gentle breeze
Begin again.

Lord Locust Plague and Baron Bandit Bug,
One east, one west, one north, one south.
We're surrounded.

NOTE: This the J.P. Seaton translation found in The Poetry of Zen (2004); Shambhala Publications: Boston, MA, pp. 67-68. For the author’s name, Seaton uses “Kuan Hsiu,” the Wade-Giles romanization of the name.

“Monody” by Herman Melville [w/ Audio]

To have known him, to have loved him
After loneness long;
And then to be estranged in life,
And neither in the wrong;
And now for death to set his seal—
Ease me, a little ease, my song!
By wintry hills his hermit-mound
The sheeted snow-drifts drape,
And houseless there the snow-bird flits
Beneath the fir-trees’ crape:
Glazed now with ice the cloistral vine
That hid the shyest grape.

“The Place of the Solitaires” by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]

Let the place of the solitaires
Be a place of perpetual undulation.

Whether it be in mid-sea
On the dark, green water-wheel,
Or on the beaches,
There must be no cessation
Of motion, or of the noise of motion,
The renewal of noise
And manifold continuation;

And, most, of the motion of thought
And its restless iteration,

In the place of the solitaires,
Which is to be a place of perpetual undulation.