Everyone's journey
through this world is the same,
so I won't complain.
Here on the plains of Nasu,
I place my trust in the dew.
NOTE: This translation by Sam Hamill in The Poetry of Zen (2004) Boston: Shambhala, p. 131.
A face devoid of love or grace,
A hateful, hard, successful face,
A face with which a stone
Would feel as thoroughly at ease
As were they old acquaintances —
First time together thrown.
Sparrows cast on my desk their shadows in pair,
And willow down falls in my inkstone here and there.
Sitting by the window, I read the Book of Change,
Not knowing when has Spring gone, I only feel strange.
Note: This is the joint translation of Xu Yuanchong and Xu Ming found in the Golden Treasury of Quatrains and Octaves (a Bilingual edition of 千家诗 “Thousands of Poems”) on which they collaborated (i.e. China Publishing Group: Beijing (2008) p. 40)
Sometimes the syllables matter:
It meant to say, “Stow cars away
Someplace that is not here.”
But just one unfortunate break
Is all it takes to make it say:
“Middling Monarchs are Banned.”
His steady sails he never furls
At any time o' year,
And perching now on Winter's curls,
He whistles in his ear
one-legged crow squats
to explode into flight;
false alarm!
The mountain and the squirrel
Had a quarrel;
And the former called the latter ‘Little Prig.’
Bun replied,
‘You are doubtless very big;
But all sorts of things and weather
Must be taken in together,
To make up a year
And a sphere.
And I think it no disgrace
To occupy my place.
If I'm not so large as you,
You are not so small as I,
And not half so spry.
I'll not deny you make
A very pretty squirrel track;
Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;
If I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither can you crack a nut.’
a temple mural
shows monk and novice
admiring Fall leaves,
as I admire the mural -
surrounded by Spring green.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 