December poems

rainy morning
mushrooms walking on
the bridge

Matin de pluie

des champignons marchent

sur le pont

with love

the barber carves

my ear

Avec amour

le barbier sculpte

mon oreille

Maze of wires

and shabby houses

our kingdom

Labyrinthe de fils electriques

et de maisons miteuses

notre royaume

For Sodo san the beggar

For Sodo Yokoyama

Thin

dreamy

body

you sat in this Kyoto park

noisy kids playing

not too far

young lovers

hardly

holdings hands

you

no matter what

and why

nor minding neither wishing

your

thin blue lips

blew

leaves

music and simple tunes

hopping

from tree to tree

ear to ear

moment

to

moment

no traces left

any hope gone

gone beyong the beyond

beyond realization and delusion

self and others

East and West

beyond

doing

sitting Zen

in rags

begging the sky and chewing a mouthful of clouds

green tea was nice too

in the company of a visitor

no matter what

and why

thin

leaves

in

a

bowl

Poem for old sitters

An old man used to live on the mountain-top

with a few clouds as companions.

Last night, rain and wind blew them away

In the end, how can clouds be mistaken for him?

Poem and calligraphy from Eihei Goyu, Eiheiji abbot of Meiji era

remembering Niwa

This is a picture of Niwa Zenji, abbot of Eiheiji who died a few years ago. He happens to be in my lineage, in the blood line of the transmission. I always felt a deep connection with this old teacher, very humble and soft, and I vividly remember when he came to the West. Little did i know at the time that I would be one of his great grand sons one day.

Like a laughing and beaming cat

Eternal rambling of the brook

the cow enters the stream

your eyebrows like brushes

and teeth and tongue

gulping deep blue sky

dolls you playing with

at five or six years of age

dressing them endlessly

your shaved head under the sharp blade

the incense cloud and fragrant pine

the loud voice of the valley

shaking the rocks

rocking the silent moon

not making sense of anything

loosing track, wiping footprints

how can one walk the rain

what is the faith of trees, bees, birds?

Not answering

bleeding laughters

merely gazing

with gentleness

you ascend the Eiheiji seat

and bow at dogs in secret

Niwa

my blood in yours

and yours in mine

soiled

as this all world

seal in space

not even a ripple

or stir

or chatter

or whisper

the seal where two moons

collide

and turn into

each other

Niwa

like a rambling and beaming cat

eternal laughing of the brook