Chán Poetry 诗禅 Chán Shī

These Spiritual Window Shoppers

2011-12-12T16:37:00.000-08:00

These spiritual window-shoppers,
who idly ask, 'How much is that?'
Oh, I'm just looking.
They handle a hundred items and put them down,
shadows with no capital.

What is spent is love and two eyes wet with weeping.
But these walk into a shop,
and their whole lives pass suddenly in that moment,
in that shop.

Where did you go? "Nowhere."
What did you have to eat? "Nothing much."

Even if you don't know what you want,
buy _something,_ to be part of the exchanging flow.
Start a huge, foolish project,
like Noah.

It makes absolutely no difference
what people think of you.

Rumi,

2011-09-14T22:23:00.000-07:00

A few people have posted DESIDERTA on Facebook today and I couldn't resist posting this Video on my blog. I will probably get some shit for it, but lighten up and eat a bagel with loads of cream cheese. I first heard this on the National Lampoon 'Radio Dinner' album when Desiderata was making the rounds of my local High School back in 1971.

the original

desiderata -

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser

persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,

no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann c. 1920

the door

2011-09-11T12:52:00.000-07:00

A man went to the door
of the Beloved and knocked.
A voice replied, 'Who is there?'
The man answered, 'It is I.'
The voice said,
'There is no room for 'I' and 'Thou.''
The door remained closed.
After a year of solitude
and deprivation he returned
and knocked again.
A voice from within asked,
'Who is there?'
The man said, 'It is Thou.'
The door was finally open.

Jelaluddin Rumi

Rambling in the Eunseon Ravine

2011-08-27T01:01:00.000-07:00

no sound of mountain or beings,
flock of birds fly accompanying a cloud.
water flows down and flowers in full bloom,
I forget the time to return.

Mt. Yeonam

2011-08-20T18:45:00.000-07:00

The day was getting dark and I saw the snow blossoms
On snow capped Mt. Yeonam,
A young student informed me that
The drum had been already been struck for the evening meal

The Collected Writings of Gyeongheo

Women-sí

2011-08-01T04:56:00.000-07:00

the mountain mist floats in and out

of the crevices and valleys below my feet.
Jinding cliff falls off into a sea of vast whiteness,
Wumen-sí means temple above the clouds,
where Zen Monks practice and
pay homage to the sacred Bodhisattva’s home.
one minute visible and then gone
in the very next instant.
many Monks living at the roof of China
in the perfection of blue skies
and bright sun
the thin air has me gasping for breath.
I bow to Samantabhadra
as an old monk strikes the bell,
Amidofu he says,
Amidofu I reply.

renegade ji do poep sa nim

2011-06-16T12:12:00.000-07:00

sitting quietly in the upstairs dharma room

the early morning stillness envelopes me

participants are scarce

only hang ja nim and I are present

after some period of time

the stillness of the morning is suddenly broken

the door creaks open, thudding footsteps resound,

and the slick rustling of nylon clothing

thinking immediately arises

who is it who doesn’t understand

correct situation and correct function

trying to return focus to the floor

the noise irritates me

suddenly a tap on the shoulder

reveals the culprit

a renegade ji do poep sa nim

who has snuck out of kyol che

the irritation vanishes as she

invites me to an impromptu breakfast

teacher and student,

wonderful to have such friends

catching up on events

the realization arises

that we are not two and not one

the eggs, hash browns and toast are delicious

the conversation is clear

don’t attach at all to the process

seize the moment before it is gone.

March 8, 1996
Providence Zen Center, RI

Essence

2011-05-21T06:17:00.000-07:00

we sometimes find ourselves
in the the craggy places in life
there is no warmth
the sun always seems to be obscured by clouds
as the dampness sets in
we realize our place in the cosmos
good and bad
right and wrong
these are merely constructs
if we attach to our situation
we lose ourselves in the process
it is this subtle understanding
that blocks the path
to our true selves
whether our situation is good
or our situation is bad
has nothing to do with our lives.
we must see the truth
in this very moment
and transcendence all of our thinking
to arrive at the present
and say hello
to our true selves

crazy

2011-05-10T23:56:00.000-07:00

a man took off

all of his clothes

then went

running down the street.

one mouth said,

‘crazy!’

another mouth said,

‘crazy!’

but, you are crazy,

I am not crazy.

a tree penetrates

the center of the sun,

while the stone boy

eats the brilliant moon.

who repaired

the sun and the moon?

in a nest,

baby birds

cheep

only for

their mother’s mouth.

S.S.

November 13, 1975

waiting

2011-05-10T23:46:00.000-07:00

the cat

only waits

at the mouse hole,

a crying boy

only calls

for his mother.

originally

there is nothing,

so why

does the western wind

shake the eastern forest?

the sun

is setting

over the southern mountain.

S.S.

November 12, 1975

dreaming

2011-05-10T23:38:00.000-07:00

a dream—is a non-dream,

a non-dream—is a dream.

who has made dream?

who has made non-dream?

if one mind is clear;

infinite time is manifest.

the sun shines everywhere,

illuminating and bright without end.

S.S.

June 17, 1975

inclement weather

2011-05-08T21:24:00.000-07:00

dense fog fills the valleys.

the grey cold creeps into my bones.

mossy peaks jut out of clouds,

their outlines a blur—

out of focus and

stopped in time;

they float on the horizon.

my mind is a mess—

just like

the confusing mist.

floating just where

I want clarity—

hiding it from my sight

I strain to see,

with all my might—

when I stop

and just relax—

out of the corner

of my eye.

a fleeting glimpse

tells me

it will all be

all right!

for sŏnsa–nim

2011-05-04T00:32:00.000-07:00

grey beard

soft as white clouds

his clear eyes manifest

in the azure blue sky

the old man said;

‘soft is better,

like yielding water

wears at the granite.”

I will meet you

in ten thousand years,

when spring comes

snow melts

and water

flows to the ocean.

bismillah road kill

2011-02-02T10:19:00.000-08:00

listening to Coleman Barks[i]

recite a poem by

Jalal ad-Din Rumi[ii] about sacrifice

and the heaviness of karma.

so many attachments

we hold in our breasts.

how could we ever be forthright,

with such heavy burdens to bear?

metaphorically speaking he said;

“say Bismillah[iii], in the name of God,

as the priest does with a knife when

he offers an animal at the altar.

Bismillah your old self

and find your real name.”

at this same exact moment

on my way to work,

I have lost who I am.

what is it that this life really means,

out of the confusion,

comes the clarity

and now I understand completely,

Jalal ad-Din Rumi said Bismillah

for me in this place,

yet at that time.

realizing now that time and space

have no meaning.

just now, the ageless

blue sierra mountains

are sentinels of time immemorial,

whose vibrant peaks

in this bless’d morning air

are cloaked and hidden

in dense grey clouds;

yet, the sky above the pacific ocean

is transparent and neon blue,

dancing with the souls of

the tens of billions who went before.

a single thread of clouds connects

between the mountains and the ocean,

while seagulls float effortlessly

on the morning air.

Jalal ad-Din Rumi is alive in my heart

as smoke rises from a distant chimney

a smile appears upon my lips.

December 22, 1997

Highway 39

[i] Coleman Barks: an American poet and renowned translator of Rumi poetry and other mystic poets of Persia. Barks has published several volumes of Rumi’s poetry since 1976, including The Hand of Poetry, Five Mystic Poets of Persia in 1993, The Essential Rumi in 1995 and The Book of Love in 2003. Coleman Barks himself does not speak Persian, and bases his translations entirely off of other English translations of Rumi. In addition, while the original Persian poetry of Rumi is heavily rhymed and metered, Barks has used primarily free verse. This has led some to criticize Barks’ works as essentially original creations, while others laud his efforts at providing the essence of Rumi’s poetry in an accessible format.

[ii] Mawlānā Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī (Persian: مولانا جلال الدين محمد رومي‎ , Turkish: Mevlânâ Celâleddin Mehmed Rumi) ‎ (1207 — 1273 CE), also known as Muhammad Balkhī (Persian: محمد بلخى‎ ), was a 13th century Persian poet, jurist, theologian and teacher of Sufism. Rumi was born in Balkh (then a city of the Greater Khorasan province of Persia, now part of Afghanistan) and died in Konya (in present-day Turkey). His birthplace and native tongue indicate a Persian/Iranian heritage. He also wrote his poetry in Persian and his works are widely read in Iran and

Afghanistan

where the language is spoken. He lived most of his life and produced his works under the Seljuk Empire and his descendants today are Turkish citizens and live in modern day Turkey. Rumi’s importance transcends national and ethnic borders. He has had a significant influence on both Turkish and Persian literature throughout the centuries. His poems have been translated into many of the world’s languages and have appeared in various formats. He was also the founder of the Mevlevi order, better known as the “Whirling Dervishes”, who believe in performing their worship in the form of dance and music ceremony called the sema.

[iii] Bismilla: (Arabic بسملة) is an Arabic-language noun which is used as the collective name of the whole of the recurring Islamic phrase bismi-llāhi ar-rahmāni ar-rahīmi (listen). This phrase constitutes the first verse of the first “sura” (or chapter) of the Qur’an, and is used in a number of contexts by Muslims. It is recited several times as part of Muslim daily prayers, and it is usually the first phrase in the preamble of the constitutions of Islamic countries.

technologically dependent

2011-01-14T11:10:00.000-08:00

This one is kind of dated, ha ha ha...... wrote it in 1996

damn, my modem’s not responding,

how am I going to get my e-mail?

last week it was the hard drive

on my computer that caused the anxiety.

and when I lost my pager

I had to change the link to the

zen center voice mail,

my personal voice mail,

my business voice mail

and my automatic fax notification

not to mention the business cards

and printed matter.

what if someone’s trying to page me on the old number?

when I forgot my electronic organizer

on my last business trip I couldn’t call anyone.

as I leave the zen center

to go to work this morning,

there is a single rose blooming

on the bush by the front door.

delicately white, the edges are

faintly trimmed in scarlet.

bending over, the fragrance is overpowering.

of course......that’s it.

the front lawn is vibrant green

with new growth from the recent rains.

the air is crisp this morning,

breathing out

the warm air condenses

and the vapor slowly dissipates.

January 8, 1996

Hae An Soen Won

zen master fortune cookie

2011-01-14T10:59:00.000-08:00

Image via Wikipedia

Christmas Eve party, conversation with a monk

about a koan interview I had

with a teacher from another zen tradition.

“he gave up his center

and asked me to teach him.”

surprised by the monk’s response,

“this is a great man!” hyon mun said to me.

pretending like I also understood, I smiled.

today, at lunch, after eating ma-po tofu—

the fortune cookie read;

“yours is the role of host wherever you may go.”

I had to laugh out loud!

it finally struck me.

host and guest are not important,

one is not better than the other.

to ask a visiting zen student to teach you,

when there is something to be learned—

is the mark of a great man.

how blind I am—stumbling about this way and that.

how lucky I am—to have a teacher like this.

outside the restaurant the air is warm,

a good friend is smiling.

we have managed to escape

the drudgery of work—once again.

how lucky I am to be so blind.

December 28, 1995

La Habra, CA

Christmas trees for religious harmony

2010-12-22T20:19:00.000-08:00

Jogye Order Administrative Leader Jaseung, right rear, and General Secretary of the National Council of Churches in Korea Kim Young-joo, second right rear, look around Jogye Temple with monks and children from the temple’s care facility for disabled children after lighting Christmas trees in front of Iljumun, the One Pillar Gate, on Dec. 20.

This marks the first time that Christmas trees were lit in the chief temple of the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism, which symbolizes reconciliation and harmony between Buddhism and Protestant Christianity in South Korea.

(Photo by Shin So-young)

Kathy's Song

2010-12-13T21:23:00.000-08:00

Kathy Daul (1957-2008) at a vigil for her fallen son Andrew, an Iraqi Vet who gave his life for our freedom.

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies

My mind's distracted and defused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day

And this song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I

I used to sing this to Kathy when it was cold and rainy out and we were sitting in her station wagon coming back from lunch.

Israel "IZ" Kaʻanoʻi Kamakawiwo Somewhere Over the Rainbow

2010-12-12T13:03:00.000-08:00

I heard this song on my commute this week to work on NPR and was surprised I had never heard this beautiful version before, so for those not familar with Israel IZ I post this to share a unique discovery. Please enjoy and seek out more from this man with the bless'd voice.

Israel "IZ" Kaʻanoʻi Kamakawiwoʻ; May 20, 1959 – June 26, 1997) was a Hawaiian musician. He became famous outside Hawaii when his album Facing Future was released in 1993. His medley of "Over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World" was subsequently featured in several films, television programs, and commercials. Through his ukulele playing and incorporation of other genres (such as jazz and reggae), Kamakawiwoʻole remains one of the major influences in Hawaiian music over the last 15 years.

Rumi - Only Breath

2010-10-24T06:49:00.000-07:00


	Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu,
	Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion

	or cultural system. I am not from the East
	or the West, not out of the ocean or up

	from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not
	composed of elements at all. I do not exist,

	am not an entity in this world or the next,
	did not descend from Adam or Eve or any

	origin story. My place is placeless, a trace
	of the traceless. Neither body or soul.

	I belong to the beloved, have seen the two
	worlds as one and that one call to and know,

	first, last, outer, inner, only that
	breath breathing human being.

The Stolen Child (An Linbh goidte)

2010-10-21T22:43:00.000-07:00

William Butler Yeats

Poem performed by The Waterboys

WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

Church Not Made With Hands

2010-10-21T21:01:00.000-07:00

Eaglais made Gan Le Lámha

bye bye shadowlands
the term is over
and all the holidays have begun
now she walks on fresh fields
her tracks are on the land
she is everywhere and noplace
when its dark and evening falls
she moves among men
they would seek to have her
as a prize
but she is in the shadows
ocean and the sand
she is everywhere and noplace
her church not made with hands
not contained by man
she dancing high as clouds
faster than the arrow
straight as any crow that flies
across great seas she travels
up through rising lands
she is everywhere and noplace
her church not made with hands
isn't that a pretty sun
setting in a pretty sky?
will we stay and watch it darken
the church not made with hands
not contained by man
that precious place
unmade
by man

for p’arang iii

2010-10-16T01:22:00.000-07:00

you and I are

just breath-breathing human beings,

lowering our heads

below the plane

occupied by our feet,

upside down

and topsy-turvy are

the realm of opening and life.

the sacred unfolds

within your shining eyes tonight.

reflection is within

the ticking of the clock on the wall.

love–

is a manifestation of our

ability to just let go,

letting go–

is a demonstration of

our will to be free.

I–

which has never existed,

loves you–

that I will never know,

within this appearance,

I can only aspire

to touch your heart

and kiss your forehead

and know

we have never

ever

been

apart..........

It is with a discerning heart

2010-10-08T20:29:00.000-07:00

It is with a discerning heart

And a compassion

That comes from

The depths of my soul,

That I come to you

With my spirit exposed

And my grace extends

From the inner

Workings of your heart

To be present

Is to be alive,

To be absorbed

So completely

In the action

That any idea

Of self and other

Never rose

Into cosmic awareness.

This is you

And this is me

And this is we

For you and I

Are not different.

For you and I

Are never the same.

It is just

That he and she

Became

All that I see.

perhaps there are moments,

2010-10-06T01:31:00.000-07:00

perhaps there are moments,

which each of us realize

that our whole life

is hanging in the balance–

of a simple glance–

or a look–

that we have been

patiently waiting for

our entire lives.

it is with this solemn grace

and the virtue of ten thousand distractions

that we can see through

to the core

of all human emotion,

and when we realize

that it is not just for our own

momentary satisfaction

and that an entire cosmos has opened up

that was hidden previously

from our purview.

it is the sanctity of the pure heart

and the vow passed from two

waiting lips–

this life is not mine

I can not do with it

what I want.

a Sufi student

2010-09-21T01:19:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia

a Sufi student came to stay a while

the meditation would do him good.

we talked of Buddhism and of Zen,

spoke of Rumi and Kabir.

we talked of the path the Daoist takes

and the one the Moslem’s tread.

with all the stops along the way

this journey seems sometimes long.

he was told of secrets

known only to a Sufi master,

to which I could only respond;

“the only secret is, there is no secret

and nothing left to find.”

he argued; “only a chosen few,

have the secret truth revealed.”

this idea a misguided interpretation

the Mevlana had also heard that lie,

I handed him a book of Rumi poems

a single tear welled in his eye.

he read that book both day and night,

and talked of nothing else.

all this teaching so wide and clear

but these poems remained another’s words.

the secret hidden from his grasp,

he will never find what he seeks.

desire brought him to stay with me,

that same desire drove him away.

we embraced before his journey south

I was sad to see him go.

the only thing we’ve heard of since;

someone defiled his Quran.

January 8, 1998

La Habra, CA

winter into spring

2010-09-17T06:03:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia

grey sky and cold wind.

leaves and branches

dance in the rain.

tall pine trees

wave their furry arms.

this somber mood—

a reflection of wind

rustling through the trees.

red clay tile roof

shiny from the rains.

spring blossoms fall to the ground—

a lone starling chirping

from some hidden nest.

rain drops splash

on the surface of the pool—

while the spring blossoms

float in patterns

directed by the wind.

life follows this cycle of events.

winter becomes spring,

spring becomes summer,

summer into autumn,

to begin the cycle again.

breathing and feeling

the cool wind against my face—

time and place are no longer separate.

dawn

2010-09-16T00:42:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia

the sun reflects beneath

scattered cirrus clouds.

fingers of pink and grey light

radiate like a spoke

from the source.

early mornings are a wonder

before the world has awaken.

quiet and still,

peaceful and alive.

the radiance penetrates the soul

and moves me towards a door.

calm and serene

no movement

besides the breath

within this space

the universe unfolds

its mystery.

January 2, 1998

Haean Sŏnwŏn

wooden idols?

2010-09-08T03:20:00.000-07:00

a wooden Buddha sits quietly on the altar

reminding the sangha to be patient and diligent

a wooden Virgin Mary stands behind the pulpit

reminding the parishioners to be compassionate and pure

a wooden Cross graces the wall above the podium

reminding the congregation

of the great sacrifice and suffering.

some would say there is a difference,

that images of people are pagan idols.

some would say they are all only wooden images

and ultimately they are the same.

the same or different, this is the dilemma,

don’t get trapped, your thinking will kill you.

neither of these are correct

pay attention, wake up

Buddha and the Virgin Mary are smiling

the wooden cross has two perpendicular lines.

how may I help you, today?

December 18, 1996

Hae An Soen Won

Poem for Kathy Daul

2010-08-03T05:34:00.000-07:00

poem for K. D.

vast blue cloudless winter sky

empty and void this morning,

true nature revealed.

your azure blue eyes are sometimes like this.

some mornings the fog is very thick and cold.

other mornings the low grey clouds hang dense and dark;

but, the sky is always the same.

just like this true nature is always there,

sometimes manifest—sometimes obscure.

how silly to chase our problems and ideas,

are they not just clouds that have appeared by themselves

and will disappear with no intervention?

how many mornings—forgetting the sky?

how many times—ignoring true nature?

the blue mountains are looming in the distance.

somehow laughing at our frailty

their message is clear.

hurry up!

but, be gentle along the way.

January 11, 1996

Beach Blvd.—Huntington Beach, CA

Kathy Daul

2010-08-03T05:23:00.000-07:00

every shining thing

“inside this box
is a gold chain and pendant
which says Buddha in Chinese,
it is there to remind
you of your true-self
always and everywhere.”
a cool breeze is in the air,
birds begin to fly south.
flowers of spring beginning to recede.
a smile is on my face.
what a miracle—breathing each moment.
38 years have passed before today.
autumn is approaching,
bodies grow old and weary,
but our true self is constant and pure.
the sky is grey in the morning,
crickets chirping every evening.
Zen Master Lin Chi once said;
“gold is a very precious thing,
but if gold dust gets in your eyes
it clouds the vision.”

October 10, 1995
Happy Birthday Kathy

flight 851

2010-08-01T21:37:00.000-07:00

kwan-se-um-bosal,

kwan-se-um-bosal.

the 737 shakes and rattles

breaking ground at dawn.

morning mist and fog

obscures the sometimes

sharp edge at the horizon.

moments like these

bring me face to face

with my own mortality.

yesterday’s despair and loneliness

give way to joyful anticipation.

the grey earth and blue sky

meet at this fuzzy

pink and red juncture.

leaving dallas behind

the sun rises in the east,

as popping ears

constantly change the pitch

of the droning engines

and the hiss

of the air conditioned wind.

January 20, 1996

Over Central Texas

subtle form

2010-07-18T10:03:00.000-07:00

a subtle form which defies explanation.

there is a place that we each can go,

a shelter beyond the mundane existence

that seems to rule our lives.

it is the existence of eternity,

it is the face of infinity

that we fear.

yet this infinite presence

is with us each moment

and with each breath that we take.

I can see it in the shadows

of the large eucalyptus trees,

and I can hear it in the echo

of the albatross' song,

I can feel it in the warmth of the

mid-day sun against my skin,

it is timeless,

it is breathless,

it is beyond thought

and beyond understanding.

and yet you know

of what I speak

is true

and tangible

in this world of great illusion.

it is the name

of the nameless,

and the face

of the faceless.

and yet our lives

spring forth from it

every second that we breathe.

I can't define it,

or you or me

in the quantum physics

of a universe gone mad,

and yet I am simple

and present

and beyond any concept

that I had a moment ago.

but concepts are many

and our ideas become rampant,

it is in the quiet time of this peace

that overcomes me like a wave,

I don't ask for it,

I only know of it

I can't say it

or know it

or hold it in my hands.

but I know full well

with my entire existence,

that what I speak of exists

in a tangible way.

there is doubt

and there is belief

but what I have is faith

beyond measure.

it is borne on the wings

of a truth built on now.

and in this now

lies the entire cosmos

laid bare for all of us to see.

it is here

and not someplace else

that we come to find ourselves.

and in that instant

that we find it

then we know who we are,

and our loved ones

and our cherished ones

are safe

and protected from harm.

earth

2010-07-14T05:47:00.000-07:00

the earth brings life

and grounds us within

her loving embrace

and bears her fruit

for all to share in abundance.

the wind carries aloft

on the breezes of spring

the seeds of existence

and the birds of the air.

the fire of our passion

and the fire of heat

gives life and expression

to our simple human existence.

the water of this world

is the universal solvent

and washes away both

the soiled and misguided intent.

the elements of life

are actually all one

it is merely our thoughts

that separate them into pieces

that life presented whole.

world union

2010-07-08T19:24:00.000-07:00

we are in the midst

of a world in union

and the separation of thought.

do we see an image,

or do we exist in the moment?

there is no outside

nor is there a tangible inside,

yet we make this

and it has somehow

come to exist

as our world of thoughts.

there is a dance

in which we circle

round and round

till we come back

to the place

where we began.

humanity is the essence

running through all

of our veins,

so why call others by a name?

if we must

use a name,

just call you me;

and know that

I am you.

love is like the

transcendent blue sky,

ideas are merely

clouds forming

and dissipating

in the clear azure sky.

the sky is always present

and never denies

the clouds from forming,

yet when the clouds must leave

the sky is never holds on.

be the sky

and let the misty places pass

of their own volition.

be as the unborn essence

of your original existence

within the timeless grace

of the dance.

perfection

2010-06-29T21:18:00.000-07:00

there are moments

when life seems so perfect

and life is grand and wide

and for all of eternity

there is this kiss

on our cheek

that lets us know

that love is the place

of sanctity and grace.

it is within your eyes

that the universe

in its vast transparency

is allowed to yield

its only bless’d treasure.

Lala

2010-06-25T20:50:00.000-07:00

a finger pointing at the moon.

Kashmiri Poetess Lala who lived in the 14^th Century:

about enlightenment and her direction she said;

in this state there is no Shiva,

nor any holy union.

only a somewhat something moving

dreamlike on a fading road.

when asked about sacred practices she said;

there are those sleeping who are awake,

and others awake who are sound asleep.

some of those bathing in the sacred pools

will never get clean.

and there are others

doing household chores

what are free from any action.

Enlightenment absorbs this universe of qualities

when that merging occurs, there is nothing

but God. This is the only doctrine.

there is no word for it, no mind

to understand it with, no categories

of transcendence or non-transcendence,

no vow of silence, no mystical attitude.

there is no Shiva and no Shakti

in enlightenment, and if there is something that remains,

that whatever it is

is the only teaching.

version translations by Coleman Barks

an answer

2010-06-24T23:19:00.000-07:00

the ultimate question always becomes

what am I or what is this?

no answer and surely no reply

can ever touch the depth

beyond a simple not knowing mind.

experience

outside of thinking—

acknowledgement

without cognitive process—

realization

functioning on its own—

thinking becomes subservient

to our actual awareness…..

don’t stress

just be

and allow

your true self

to shine forth

with no intervention

returning

2010-06-18T17:33:00.000-07:00

should the universe

return in upon itself

or our happiness

strain at the trials of life,

the brilliant illumination

of the jewels within our

body house–

contained in that sacred

heart shrine of equanimity,

we have vowed

to cherish this love

which came from god–

and of which no thought

could ever hold its true majesty–

by eternally nourishing

the constant flowing forth

is our lifetime of passion,

tenderness, and friendship.

the price of our hearts

is the debt we must repay

to Vishnu or whatever god

was there to witness the

sanctified bless’d union.

valuing the we

and nullifying the ‘I’

love is the world

that we inhabit.

kyolche forest walks

2010-05-31T23:35:00.000-07:00

twenty one days walking in the woods

didn’t hear a sound.

too busy thinking

to pay attention,

today the gurgling brook

and birdcalls echo

deep in the forest.

clodding of boots

reverberate on the path—

blue lichen and green moss

cling to rocks and trees.

dead leaves

and decaying branches.

cover the forest floor

new life springing forth

from winter weary branches

today is the last day of kyol che

what am I?

“DON’T KNOW!”

when the walk is over

we clean the mud from our boots.

Diamond Hill Zen Monastery

Cumberland, RI
1997

Buddha's Birthday

2010-05-17T01:00:00.000-07:00

two thousand five hundred

and fifty four years ago

a child was born

to Queen Maya

and King Suddhodana.

they named the child

Siddhārtha Gautama

and the hermit seer Asita

prophesized that the child

would be a great king

or a great sage who

could save the world.

no one knew the path

he would take

not even the holy Asita was sure.

at twenty-nine

he walked away from wealth

and power and fame

to seek the path of the truth,

and from this selfless action

he has allowed us to discover

the holy truth for ourselves.

as we celebrate

this sacred event together

let us wonder what would have happened

had Chán Master Yúnmén

actually been there

at the time of his birth

and beat him with a stick

and fed him to a hungry dog,

what would we be celebrating today?

Asita’s prophesy was a big mistake,

Chán Master Yúnmén’s statement

was also a big mistake,

also, this poem is a big mistake.

look at the person

next to you and you

will see Buddha–

look in a mirror

and in the reflection

is also a Buddha.

outside the sun is shining–

inside there are many smiling faces

all come to pay homage

to Śakyamuni Buddha

and thank him for choosing

to be here today.

life and death

2010-05-07T03:55:00.000-07:00

This is a poem I wrote when I had to leave a Zen Training Session held by my then teacher in Long Beach.

to my loving teacher Jibŏng Sŏnsa and our future Jido pŏpsa teachers Tim Colohan, SDPS, Anita Feng, SDPS and Eric Nord, SDPS

life and death,

coming and going,

is the true way

of the cosmos.

sŏnsa-nim will be teaching

each of you the Dao

through which we might open up

our students to this realization.

we, each of us, have been touched

by the sadness of parting

as well as the joy of reunion.

tonight, the five of us had a joyous reunion;

tomorrow, I pray I am in time to say goodbye

to my bless’d father.

I am sorry to leave this teachers meeting,

yet I know this is the correct thing to do;

you are in good hands

with our teacher

and this was what I most importantly

wanted to convey.

most of us in this universe

do not want to think about mortality,

yet this the very essence of what

makes us human beings,

we understand there is an endpoint

to this journey that we come to call life.

my sister informed me tonight

that my father almost died while

we were sitting and having dinner,

how strange the play of life is,

and how quickly situations can change,

yet this is the journey of a bodhisattva.

I must leave you in the good and skilled

hands of our bless’d teacher jibong.

I wanted so much to support this

event and to share in your insights,

but life has told me it is not to be.

I regret having to leave abruptly

and pray you will forgive my indolence,

but I know that each one of you

would do the same

had you been given this situation,

and this very knowledge

fills my heart with overwhelming joy.

Tim took such complete and utter

care of me tonight,

I felt warm and comfortable

in his love and compassion

and this is the essence of why we practice.

the question I have for you is simple,

can you help your students to see,

that cause and effect are clear?

that understanding our

correct situation

our correct condition

and our correct situation,

can cast away the confusion

and we can learn to function

completely in this world.

life is brief

and fleeting,

it is precious

and should be nurtured.

please pay attention

to our guide

and trust him completely

as I do,

I will see you all in February,

train hard

and know that the Dao

will help us all

attain a mind

which is clear

like space.

kwanseum bosal,

kwanseum bosal………….

Dōch’ŏng, JDPSN

January 26, 2008

my father passed away the next day while I was holding his hand.

Wūyōu sì

2010-04-28T04:21:00.000-07:00

the mountain mist floats in and out
of the crevices and valleys below my feet.
Jinding cliff falls off into a sea of vast whiteness,
Wūyōu sì means temple above the clouds,
where Zen Monks practice and
pay homage to the sacred Bodhisattva’s home.
one minute visible and then gone
in the very next instant.
many Monks living at the roof of China
in the perfection of blue skies
and bright sun
the thin air has me gasping for breath.
I bow to Samantabhadra
as an old monk strikes the bell,
Amidofu he says,
Amidofu I reply.

Coleman Barks and Robert Bly

2010-04-23T00:44:00.001-07:00

Emei Shan

2010-04-21T04:58:00.000-07:00

mount Emei rises up

eleven thousand feet

from the Sichuan Valley

like a sentinel

protecting Samantabhadra’s

Western home.

cloaked in mysterious

white clouds,

the path up the mountain

is more than ten thousand steps,

some rising almost vertical

for more than two thousand feet,

monkeys wait patiently

on the steep slopes of the path

waiting for an easy mark.

next to me

an adolescent monkey

jumps off the rail

grabbing a bottle of

orange soda from

a hapless woman’s hand;

the woman lets out a scream

while on lookers laugh

out in genuine glee.

as he sits with his booty

at the top of a tree

along the path,

he drinks his bright orange

soda from a hole he has

chewed in the side of the bottle.

Samantabhadra’s protectors

are well feed in this lush kingdom

of China’s fourth sacred mountain.

the snow world melts

2010-04-19T17:05:00.000-07:00

Think of the phoenix

coming up out of ashes,
but not flying off.
For a moment we have form.
We can't see.
How can we be conscious

and you be conscious
at the same time and separate?
Copper,when an alchemist

works on it, loses its copper
qualities. Seeds in Spring
begin to be trees, no longer seed.

Brushwood put in the fire changes.

The snow-world melts.
You step in my footprint and it's gone.

It's not that I've done

anything to deserve
this attention from you.

Predestination and freewill:

We can argue them,
but they're only ideas.

What's real
is a presence, like Shams.

- Rumi, Ghazal 3071, version by Coleman Barks, from Open Secret

chongqing

2010-04-17T15:58:00.000-07:00

Tsingtao melts into the hillside

at Chongqing City.

a veritable collection of mountains

and hills that once housed

the war-time capital on China.

a place where bicycles

are non-existent,

these strangers are lost

and travel back and forth

on an endless maze

of twisting and crooked roads.

flagging down a taxi

we follow these interesting

one way paths yielding

spectacular views and vistas,

eventually we find our

new temporary home.

Chongqing is a city of

the lesser three gorges

2010-04-16T01:46:00.000-07:00

bright green jade waters

running fast towards the Yangtze,

sampan crews skilled in navigating

the shallow green tributary

one time running aground

we almost spin completely around.

caves in mountain sides

and unexplored valleys

rise up to heavens

paying homage to this sacred river.

white water rapids

part of some resident’s daily commute.

an army of laborers cutting

down brush and trees below

the projected new waterline.

further downstream we finally

gaze upwards at the hanging coffins

jutting out from shear

cliff faces and seemingly inaccessible.

we are within the eyes

of the mountains

that reach out towards the sky.

Picture by Dochong 2003 on the Lesser Three Gorges

a wedding ceremony

2010-04-07T03:07:00.000-07:00

for infinite kalpas

a warm breeze has blown.

between regal lotus crowns

and pomegranate blossoms,

a drawing together

of two wayward souls.

how many lifetimes before

gathering in humbleness like this?

how many more

endless yearning beyond words and speech.

sacred union

a merging of spirit,

divine inspiration

the dancing of love’s heart.

today friends and relatives

come to witness in friendship

Bob and JaeHee

have finally come home.

Laozu

2010-04-03T01:21:00.000-07:00

Laozu once told us:

“true words aren’t eloquent

eloquent words aren’t true.”

poetry resonates our heart of hearts

rather than stimulating

some intellectual response.

heartfelt truth transcends

all imagined boundaries,

allowing our souls

a glimpse of this universal.

beyond all space,

beyond all time,

beyond all dogma and thought,

the light shines within you.

my devoted dog Barney

lying quietly at my feet.

Benedictine monks

softly sing Gregorian chants.

the evening sun cascades upon

a peach and orange landscape

for the bright lovers orb tonight,

rises low in this early evening sky.

a voice inside my heart says;

“be still...for,

you are the way home.”

December 16, 1997

Haean Sŏnwŏn

loss of an icon

2010-04-02T01:18:00.000-07:00

there used to be

something about you.

an unknowable essence

which was out of my reach.

there used to be this

dynamic, unyielding presence.

I thought that was

the ultimate goal that I sought.

now I see the frailty,

the desire slides through

and exposes in the sunlight.

it can’t be hidden

by the years on your head.

we are all simply human,

none of us exempt

from wanting and desire—

the relentless chain of events.

some play the game

of appearances better than others.

but, let’s just be human

and screwed up and vulnerable

let’s be honest

and not try to hide

it from ourselves.

what is it?

2010-03-25T02:17:00.000-07:00

it is a simple rose
that blooms in spring
and brings with it
the beauty of this mysterious cosmos

it is a quiet moment

with your lover at night

when words aren’t necessary

and I love you is said without opening your mouth

it is a somber moment

of suffering and dis-ease

when your father tells you

that his illness is getting worse

it is a challenging moment

of confusion and then insight

when you face another problem

in your work-a-day life.

it is a comfortable moment

when you relax in the hot tub

and the bodily stress of

another day seems to melt away.

it is a moment of profound stillness

when the question permeates

the very core of your being

and there is only clear being there.

the profundity of life’s lessons

is in the simple ness of the answers

that come to us only when we are completely awake.

Zen Master Cheon Kang Sunim

2010-03-18T01:53:00.000-07:00

1975

Dear Rev. Cheong On Sunim—

Homage to the Three Treasures. In memory of the great Zen Master, Cheon Kang Sunim, I fold my hands before the altar of the Three Treasures. The news that our great master has entered into Nirvana reached me through the Buddhist newspaper, and I would like to express my heartfelt grief and sadness. His original face, of course, is still there among the Blue Mountains and the White Clouds; furthermore, there is no life and death or even Nirvana, yet life is life, and death is death, and I feel greatly grieved. I feel all the more so because I cannot go and see the image of the great master who was particularly kind and loving to me throughout his lifetime. Far away in America, I look to the Eastern sky, with hands folded, with incense burning, in a deep meditation in behalf of him.

(We wish that you not forget your original vow, and return to the suffering world again as soon as possible, to find again enlightenment, the great work of life and death, and widely benefit all sentient beings.) Reverend Cheong On, you shall be busy giving 49th day and 100th day memorial services for him. Please give my best regards to all those in your temple. Buddhism in the U.S.A. is developing day by day. It is my great regret that I did not have the chance to invite our great master to the United States once.

Wishing an eternal bliss to our master again, and continuous efforts for greater achievements to you, I remain,

Yours,

Seung Sahn

for Cheon Kang Sunim

In the great enlightenment

achieved by one word,

Many blue-eyed disciples originate.

In the hairs which grow on teeth,

Many Buddhas and Bodhisattvas

die and disappear.

The Great Zen Master,

Cheon Kang Young Shin,

Where are you going?

KATZ!

Aigo, aigo, aigo.

I am weeping.

for kwanjŏk

2010-03-10T03:47:00.001-08:00

perceive stillness

in the

great brightness.

a sharp sword

of wisdom

kills and gives life.

the edge is honed

but keep it sharp

from this

wisdom peak

the journey home

is a long and tenuous trek.

stay in this moment

and don’t delude

your self.

Happy Birthday Great Abbot

2010-03-05T23:16:00.000-08:00

what is required

to see your way through?

a strong center

and only go straight

don’t know mind.

there is no doubt

that our abbot

embodies

the Buddhadharma,

he is forthright

and true.

just do it

is the way of the Buddha’s,

but Buddha

never had a wife;

he left that all behind,

so finding

husband mind,

and father

mind,

and student mind,

and teacher mind,

and mentor mind,

and therapist mind,

are all realms the Buddha

approved of,

yet did not endure.

our path on the Dao

isn’t as easy as a Monk’s,

so watch your step

and dance in the middle

of the fire.

three bows from

your teacher

on your magic forty.

an age younger than

your years,

and older than

time immemorial.

stop—and pay attention

to each fleeting moment

you give

and today

allow others

to shower you

with the recognition

you so deserve.

great vows

2010-02-26T01:49:00.000-08:00

that sacred vow

that now remains unseen,

always just below the surface.

it is there to remind me

how tenuous this life can be.

an ache that wants relief–

or that itch that cannot be scratched–

making itself known

on its own schedule

and within its own time.

yet knowing that you are still here

in my heart and I in yours

even if it goes unnoticed

or is pushed down again,

it remains there

as big and bright as always.

the longing soul

whose mate has somehow

gotten lost in the malaise

of life’s karmic unfolding,

but no simple act of defiance

can stop this love

from manifesting in this moment.

I will give you an example of a correct Zen Poem

2010-02-22T02:46:00.000-08:00

the four elements
disperse as in a dream.
the six perceptions,
six senses,
and the six consciousnesses
are originally transparent.
to understand this,
the Buddhas
and all the eminent teachers
return to the place of light.
the sun is setting
over the Western Mountain,
the moon is rising
in the East.

March 22, 1975

moon poem in Gaelic

2010-02-16T21:00:00.000-08:00

here is a tribute to my dear mother in her native language. The language of my ancestors...

anaithnid chailleann an gealach,
Bhí ndeachaigh an óige draíochta.
in ionad le tuairimí eolaíochaan dromchla,
ach ag breathnú ar an dromchla,
ach cad is féidir a discernedtríd an cuspóir senses.
Tá go fóill,
tá roinnt eolaisthar an eolas?
Is féidir a eagnafoghlaimíodh ón leabhar?
na cúig choláiste agusdhá fhreastail ollscoileanna,
Ní amháin cúrsaí ar fáil ar eagna.
chreidiúint go bhfuil fós i bhfórsaí mysteriously dofheicthe,
Tá a n-éifeachtaí agus intomhaiste predicable.
an gealach an irresistible tarraingt ar tides aigéin,
an rince draíochta na filings iarainnlaistigh
de réimsí maighnéadacha bhogadh;
fós, leid dhá lovers glacadhar oíche
moonlitgazing le chéile ag gealagus spectre
glowingardú ar an scóip soiléircaillte
i n-ghráagus ar snámh ar tráthnóna aer fionnuar,
a bhfuil éifeacht iarmhartach evokedag
an mbabhta orb boga i spás?
féachaint ar an gealach roinnt oíchemar
atá sé arduithe ar na spéireina SOILSE
go léir agus splendor,
Mothaíonn an awe agus an
Wonderbhraith tú mar leanbh.
éilimh eolaíoch go bhfuilaon rud cosúil
le cumhacht draíochtaD'fhéadfadh
go mbeadh misconstrued, b'fhéidir,
ag an altóir an oibiachtúlacht.
tá a fhios agam thar eolais?
maidin an-an fear ar an aoibh
gháire gealach -agus gach
bhí soiléir go leor.

moon

2010-02-15T01:06:00.000-08:00

loosing awe of the moon,

the magic childhood was gone.

replaced with scientific views

of superficiality,

looking just at the surface,

only what can be discerned

through the objective senses.

yet, is there some knowledge

beyond the knowing?

can wisdom be

learned from a book?

of five colleges and

two universities attended,

not one offered courses on wisdom.

believing still in mysteriously invisible forces,

their effects are measurable and predicable.

the moon’s irresistible pull on ocean tides,

the magic dance of iron filings

within moving magnetic fields;

yet, suppose two lovers embrace

on a moonlit night

together gazing at a bright

and glowing spectre

rising on the clear horizon

lost in their love

and floating on cool evening air,

what resultant effect is evoked

by the soft round orb in space?

view the moon some night

as it rises on the horizon

in all its majesty and splendor,

feel the awe and the wonder

you felt as a child.

scientific claims that there is

no such thing as magical power

might possibly be misconstrued

at the altar of objectivity.

is there knowing beyond knowledge?

this morning–the man in the moon smiled–

and all became quite clear.

December 19, 1997

Costa Mesa, CA

An Ancient Capital

2010-02-12T01:11:00.000-08:00

Xi'an is bathed

in a glaring yellow haze,

the ancient capital

surrounded by

farms and poverty

the south gate welcomes

barbarians from

the west.

the hyatt regency

an insert for foreigners.

a quiet stroll

down the long boulevard

this restaurant–no english

no menu in sight

a hot pot with

water and blood

fish heads float

in the boiling broth

with a tripe and

cucumber feast.

no meaningful words

were ever exchanged

the dinner

an interesting extravaganza

not knowing what to do

when visiting the east

you are only a guest

understanding this

the correct response

appears in this moment.

life

2010-02-07T18:18:00.000-08:00

to say my life

is a great mistake,

to think this is mine

is pure delusion,

to want something

is only a thought,

to believe in an ideology

is a human’s folly,

to make something

is what we do for entertainment,

to be present

is what the Buddha taught,

to have everyday mind

is what Nánquán expressed,

to only not know

is the way of Seung Sahn,

so what is your way

of seeing clearly in this moment?

one sword

2010-02-05T23:02:00.000-08:00

one sword which replenishes,

one sword which takes away.

illuminated by lightening flash,

momentary objects come into view.

lions pounce and claw,

the dog runs after the bone.

March 6, 1975

beyond belief and ideas

2010-02-01T01:36:00.000-08:00

beyond belief and ideas

there are moments that

transcend the times of life

and connect us to the ultimate

reality of the unfolding presence.

can this become more

than opinion,

or more that our expectations?

settling into the moment

we can not define a single

minute detail

for it is this indefinable

and unknowable

mystery that life

brings forth and we must

ultimately follow.

becoming or just allowing

the flow and the ebb of

our situation

free from any perception

or expectations

that may limit this

ongoing unfolding of eternity.

so we are

and we become

and we can see

but is it beyond

this ultimate idea

of life

that we have in our heads?

love

is not an idea.

compassion

is not an action.

piety

is not being kind to parents.

grace

is not a gift from god.

all of our lives

are perfect

transcendent

and perfect.

just this

just now

be!

Photo: Samantabhadra's Temple on Emei Shan, PRC 2004

mouse eats cat food

2010-01-28T05:58:00.000-08:00

original face is clear, manifest in the green pine as well as in the white rocks. if you wish to understand the meaning of, the mouse eats cat food, and the cat’s bowl is broken; you must attain that a quarter is also twenty five cents. December 21, 1974

golden wind

2010-01-27T03:28:00.000-08:00

a cold wind scatters the autumn leaves. is this right, or is it wrong? there are scriptures which aren't written on paper, and upon the pages no characters exist. these blank scriptures illuminate the darkness; the mountain is none other than the mountain, the river is none other than the river. red appears—only red, white appears—only white. each thing is clear just as it is. October, 1974

Night Rain

2010-01-26T12:17:00.000-08:00

raining for no reason, gentle whispers of reality. lovely natural tune drop by drop by drop. listening and lounging around, no thoughts arise. no need for hearing, no need for the rain. Chińgak Hyesim 眞覺慧諶 (1178–1234)

haleakela

2010-01-26T01:03:00.000-08:00

look into the ever deepening blue and see the face of god embellished in dancing formless clouds. mount haleakalā thrives in the house of the sun— a giant lifted out of the pacific to cast its immense shadow over the rugged coast which encircles this island paradise. rising well above the clouds— floating in the eternal sea of white, to look out beyond the summit— there is only a deep penetrating blue— the blazing sun does little to warm bodies chilled in the brisk mountain breeze. it has been said by the ancients that the demigod maui and his mother conspired to capture the sun at this summit and so doing lengthened the days which brought plenty to this island of delight, yet it is the timelessness of the vast open planet that is found upon its apex— in all directions there is an unbounded clarity— for, to see all of existence in the yielding pallid clouds and the endless azure sky, this is truly peace on earth where heaven knows no equal.

one hundred day retreat

2010-01-23T04:47:00.000-08:00

great man attends one hundred day retreat, making many demons, many gods, many animals, and many Buddhas. one hundred days— the same as just one breath. brush off the dust— breathe in the sky and ground and find Great Faith in the palm of your hand, with Great Freedom at your feet. spring arrives, flowers blooming everywhere. May, 1974

Ahista ahista - Jagjit Singh

2010-01-20T22:22:00.000-08:00

I love this Ghazal titled 'Ahista, Ahista' which roughly translated into English is 'Slowly, Slowly.' The Ghazal is a particular form of poetry usually recited or sung in Urdu and having its roots in India. The artist on the Video is Jagjit Singh and the song was written by Ameer Minai. Jagjit Singh originally sang this on his album titled ‘Unforgettables’, which was released with his wife Chitra Singh in 1975.
The following is my attempt at an English version of this song.
revealing her beautiful features
the veil falls away, slowly, slowly
appearing over the mountains
the moon rises, slowly, slowly
when she left behind her youth,
she hid behind this veil
modesty and social ways appearing
as the youthfulness waned, slowly, slowly
this night of separation I am awake,
angels of death let me sleep now
take account of this situation tomorrow,
when you have time, slowly, slowly
so much passion for conversation
yet she is fearful and when
she replies her lips
are tightly clenched, slowly, slowly
there is just a slight difference
between our love for one another
on my side in a rush
and from you it is always slowly, slowly
she has beheaded me,
so without passion I tell her
your graciousness! slowly,
your majesty! slowly, slowly

Chán Poetry 诗 禅 Chán Shī

These Spiritual Window Shoppers

the door

Rambling in the Eunseon Ravine

Mt. Yeonam

Women-sí

renegade ji do poep sa nim

Essence

crazy

waiting

dreaming

inclement weather

for sŏnsa–nim

bismillah road kill

technologically dependent

zen master fortune cookie

Christmas trees for religious harmony

Kathy's Song

Israel "IZ" Kaʻanoʻi Kamakawiwo Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Rumi - Only Breath

The Stolen Child (An Linbh goidte)

Church Not Made With Hands

for p’arang iii

It is with a discerning heart

perhaps there are moments,

a Sufi student

winter into spring

dawn

wooden idols?

Poem for Kathy Daul

poem for K. D.

Kathy Daul

flight 851

subtle form

earth

world union

perfection

Lala

an answer

returning

kyolche forest walks

Buddha's Birthday

life and death

Wūyōu sì

Coleman Barks and Robert Bly

Emei Shan

the snow world melts

chongqing

the lesser three gorges

a wedding ceremony

Laozu

loss of an icon

what is it?

it is a simple rose that blooms in spring and brings with it the beauty of this mysterious cosmos

Zen Master Cheon Kang Sunim

for kwanjŏk

Happy Birthday Great Abbot

great vows

I will give you an example of a correct Zen Poem

moon poem in Gaelic

moon

An Ancient Capital

life

one sword

beyond belief and ideas

mouse eats cat food

golden wind

Night Rain

haleakela

one hundred day retreat

Ahista ahista - Jagjit Singh

Chán Poetry 诗禅 Chán Shī

it is a simple rose
that blooms in spring
and brings with it
the beauty of this mysterious cosmos