I have a ladle of wine
to share with you tonight
a new year rain drums on the roof
an ancient wind sings in the fields
considering the world's
springtime and fall
this body's decay and emptiness
the destruction of the tombs on Peimang let us sigh for all our heroes.

Flat Lake’s autumn water
Merges with the winter sky
The ancient trees are lined
With frost
The falling leaves are red
The stone path and the footbridge
Are free of human tracks
A single hut is locked away
Deep inside the clouds.

In the stillness by the empty window
I sit in formal meditation
Wearing my monk's surplice,
Navel and nose in alignment,
Ears parallel with shoulders.
Moonlight floods the room;
The rain stops,
But the eaves drip and drip.
Perfect this moment
In the vast emptiness,
My understanding deepens.

Ten thousand things in heaven and earth
All should be fodder for the laboring mind.
Though others would like to understand,
This Way of Poetry is profound indeed!
Returning to simplicity,
You ignore current happenings,
Shut your gate, getting through the year end.
I thought of you these past fall evenings,
Both of us facing the cold lamp, composing.

If only I could share it:
The soft sound of snow
Falling late at night
From the trees
At this old temple