Joined: 16 Oct 2004
|Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 11:29 am Post subject:
At the north window, icy draughts whistle through the cracks,
At the south pond, wild geese huddle in snowy reeds.
Above, the mountain moon is pinched thin with cold,
Freezing clouds threaten to plunge from the sky.
Buddhas might descend to this world by the thousands,
They couldn't add or subtract one thing.
"When the self withdraws the ten thousand things advance; when the self advances, the ten thousand things withdraw".
A single butterfly
fluttering and drifting
in the wind
Hearing a crow with no mouth
cry in the darkness of the night
I feel a longing for
my father before he was born.
In my hut this spring
there is nothing -
there is everything