Glimpses of the Dharma

Chinese Buddhist Poetry

Late in the Day, Gazing Out From a River Pavilion

Water to the horizon

veils the base of clouds;

mountain mist

blurs the far village.

Returning to nest, birds

make tracks in the sand;

passing on the river, a boat

leaves no trace on the waves.

I gaze at the water

and know its gentle nature;

watch the mountains

until my spirit tires.

Though not yet ready

to leave off musing,

dusk falls,

and I return by horse.

- Chia Tao (779-843)

as flowing waters disappear into the mist

we lose all track of their passage

every heart is its own Buddha

ease off; become immortal

wake up: the world's a mote of dust

behold heaven's round mirror

turn loose: slip past shape and shadow

sit side by side with nothing -- save Tao

---

mountain sounds carry a chill wisdom

an upwelling spring whispers subtle tales

pine breezes stir the fire beneath my tea

bamboo shadows soak deep into my robe

I grind my ink: clouds scraping across the crags

copy out a verse: birds settling on branches

as the world rolls right on by

its every turn tracing out non-action

- Shih-shu (late 17th century - early 18th century)

Poetry excerpted from The Clouds Should Know Me by Now: Buddhist Poet Monks of China, edited by Red Pine and Mike O'Connor