Aug 02 2017
The trail enters
Pines, the sound of pines;
The farther one goes,
The rarer the sound.
Mountain light
Colors the river water.
Among peaks a monk sits
In Zen,
Facing an old branch
Of a cassia tree,
Once a seedling in the Liang.
— Chiao-jan (730-799)
Aug 01 2017
By willow’s shade
In shadows of the pine
All karma stopped
The monkey heart is skewered
The racing mind, corralled
The moon bright, the breeze pure
Alone I speak
Of endless life
— Yun-k’an tzu
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