Nov 10 2017
My heart is like the autumn moon,
Pure as a pool of limpid blue
That nothing can compare.
Teach me what words there are
That can express it.
— Han Shan
Nov 09 2017

In all, what does life resemble?
It seems a goose print in the slush of snow.
That chance left footprint will soon be gone,
And the goose flies away it knows not where.
The old monk is dead, his new stupa built
And nowhere to see old poems
On the temple's crumbling walls.
Do you remember the rugged paths,
The weariness of the long road
And the braying of the donkey?

— Su Shi (1037-1101)
Nov 08 2017

Good and worthy Chan students! Vast and wondrous, the fundamental radiance is by itself illuminating. Still and responding to everything, the great function is manifest before you. The wooden horse neighs in the wind, without moving a step in the present. The clay bull comes up from the sea and plows open the spring of the empty eon.

— Hongzhi
Nov 07 2017
Before Heaven and Earth
Formless and solitary,
Master of all things,
Untouched by the changing seasons.
— Fu Xi (497-569)
Nov 06 2017
I took a piece of the rare cloth of Ch'i,
White silk glowing and pure as frost on snow,
And made you a fan of harmony and joy,
As flawlessly round as the full moon.

Carry it always, nestled in your sleeve.
Wave it and it will make a cooling breeze.

I hope, when Autumn comes back
And the North wind drives away the heat,
You will not store it away amongst old gifts
And forget it, long before it is worn out.
— Lady P'an
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