drafty mountain hut

always at home, forever on the way

Tag: Mountain Home

Autumn Kessei 2017 Week 11

by tendo zenji

In reply to a Letter from Meng, Who’s
Gone Searching for His Old Village

After all that loss and ruin, I live at peace
far from Lo–yang summits, still unraveling

This question cloud-hidden peaks all pose.
I never leave these thorn-bramble depths—

north winds yellow leaves tumbling away,
southern streams old-age laments. Ten years

a guest of lakes and rivers — this mind all
lingering dusk grows boundless, boundless.

—Tu Fu (712-770)
translated by David Hinton in Mountain Home

Autumn Kessei 2017 week 10

by tendo zenji

Reverence-Pavilion Mountain, Sitting Alone

The birds have vanished into deep skies.
A last cloud drifts away, all idleness.

Inexhaustible, this mountain and I
gaze at each, it alone remaining.

— Li Po (701-762)
translated by David Hinton in Mountain Home

Autumn Kessei 2017 week 9

by tendo zenji

Listening to a Monk’s Ch’in Depths

Carrying a ch’in cased in green silk, a monk
descended from Eyebrow Mountain in the West.

When he plays, even in a first few notes,
I hear the pines of ten thousand valleys,

and streams rinse my wanderer’s heart clean.
Echoes linger among temple frost-fall bells,

night coming unnoticed in emerald mountains,
autumn clouds banked up, gone dark and deep.

— Li Po (701-762)
translated by David Hinton in Mountain Home

Autumn Kessei 2017 week 7

by tendo zenji

5 Deer Park

No one seen. In empty mountains,
hints of drifting voice, no more.

Entering those deep woods, late sun-
light ablaze on green moss, rising.

6 Magnolia Park

Autumn mountains, gathering last light,
one bird follows another in flight away.

Shifting kingfisher-greens flash radiant
scatters. Evening mists: nowhere they are.

11 Vagary Lake

Flute-song carries beyond further shores.
In dusk light, I bid you a sage’s farewell.

Across this lake, in the turn of a head,
mountain greens furl into white clouds.

— Wang Wei (701-761)
translated by David Hinton in Mountain Home

nearly full moon shining through clouds

by tendo zenji

Getting up past midnight and gazing across
the West Garden, I encounter the Rising Moon
-Liu Tsung-yüan

Waking to the sound of heavy dew falling,
I open the door, gaze past the west garden

to a cold moon rising over eastern ridges,
scattered bamboo, roots gone clear, clear.

Distance clarifies a waterfall into silence.
Now and then, a mountain bird calls out.

I lean on a column, stay till dawn in these
isolate depths of quiet: no words, no words.
 
 
Translated by David Hinton
from Mountain Home: The Wilderness Poetry of Ancient China, p. 151