The clouds of sunset
— Su T’ung-Po (1037-1101)
Gather in the western sky,
And over the silent silvery Han
Rises a white jade moon.
Not often does life
Bring such beauty.
Where shall I see the moon
Listening to Snow
Cold night, no wind,
Bamboo making noises,
Noises far apart,
Now bunched together,
Filtering the pine-flanked lattice.
Listening with ears is less fine
Than listening with the mind.
Beside the lamp I lay
Aside the half scroll of sutra
The Way is vast and without favor.
— Loy Ching-Yuen (1873-1960)
The all-empty Tao is profound.
With an empty heart, its nature is
Though its power encompasses the cosmos.
With its wisdom one may discern
Life’s great mysteries,
So that the heart may become pure
As the throne of the immortals.
The wind is the breath
— Song Yu (290-223 BC)
Of heaven and earth.
Into every corner
It unfolds and reaches;
Without choosing between high or low,
Exalted or humble,
It touches everywhere.
In a pellucid ocean,
Bubbles arise and dissolve again.
Just so, thoughts are no
Different from ultimate reality,
So don’t find fault; remain at ease.
Whatever arises, whatever occurs,
Don’t grasp—release it on the spot.
Appearances, sounds, and objects
Are all one’s own mind;
There’s nothing except mind.