Zen Poetry

[Adam Kryder]

Dear All,

I have long wanted to lead a small thread on Zen Poetry. So now, the Time has come!!!

The best idea I have for maintaining the integrity of this thread, is for all those involved to allow a week or so for each new poem to be discussed, this way we can prevent overloading material. Focusing on Quality rather than Quantity.

However, during each week that a certain poem is brought to mind, it would be wonderful if people could respond with the following:

1. A personal experience of the poem?
- ex. Their opinions and thoughts etc...
- Similar experiences, etc..

2. A poetic response of their own composition?
- Is there a way you might express yourself differently about the same material? Or 'Correct' the response based on your understanding of Zen. (This is in the spirit of the Venerable Hui Neng and his inscription on the wall)
- You may or may not justify your response


3. Fill in any missing information.
- If you know where the original text can be found, please share.
- If you know the CHaracters for the romanization of Names, Please share.
- Any history of the poem and its context would also be great. or how it may relate to a work of art from that same time period.


***Note***
In order to maintain this thread with integrity, should you post any information that is not original please supply a proper academic
source, (ie.- Name of Author, Date of publication, Name of source/text, Publisher, ISBN# if possible)



Thanks for your time.



Best Wishes,


Adam

[Adam Kryder]

Poem #1- July 25th, 2008

I would like to begin this thread with a few poems from the book.

'Because of the Rain: A Selection of Korean Zen Poems'
Compiled and translated into Korean by Daljin Kim
Translated into English by Won-Chung Kim and Christopher Merrill.
"Companions for the Journey Vol. 10" White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY
ISBN-978-I-893996-44-I

----

Chunghur Hyujung
'To My Old Friend Lee'

Our lives--the one leisurely, the other busy--
took different courses, but time fled for both of us.
When we meet to talk about the past--
gray hair on our heads, chrysanthemums in the autumn
garden.

----

Please, enjoy!
and feel free to comment or ask any questions you wish.

I will answer to the best of my ability, or one of our many members may also have some answers.

That we may enjoy or communion!


Best Wishes,

Adam

[Racheli]

Murakami, Kijo. (1865-1938)

The moment two bubbles
are united, they both vanish.
A lotus blooms.




* Sorry I don't know who translated or from what book.

[Adam Kryder]

Below, is my response to the last 2 posts:

Chunghur Hyujung
'To My Old Friend Lee'

Our lives--the one leisurely, the other busy--
took different courses, but time fled for both of us.
When we meet to talk about the past--
gray hair on our heads, chrysanthemums in the autumn
garden.

This poem is great testament to the universality of spiritual cultivation and what it means to live in this world. On one hand we have the author Chunghur Hyujung (Does anyone know the Chinese translation of this?) a monk who lived a 'liesurely' life, and Lee the worldly and 'busy' man.

Regardless of the life they lived, their different paths and ways of life, these differences unite instead of separate them. Both have been humbled by the world, both have been subject to the 'seasons' of life, and there is an overwhelming tone of gratitude about being fortunate enough to have lived and enjoyed time together (i.e. 'chrysanthemums in the autumn garden').

This shows how important the humbleness and opportunity of the Human Experience is. Our communion as people is the greatest of riches in the world.

This is also shown by Racheli's poem:

Murakami, Kijo. (1865-1938)

The moment two bubbles
are united, they both vanish.
A lotus blooms.

One understanding could be the following

"The moment two bubbles are united"-->
The moment of communion between mankind

"they both vanish"-->
They merge with the greater communion of all beings

"A lotus blooms"-->
Their spiritual cultivation is in full fruition.


Thank you Racheli!


This communion, no matter in what context or situation is such a wonderful opportunity, my blessings are with all, that we all may be humble enough to take advantage of such opportunity.

Please feel free to contribute...



Blessings,


Adam

[TimQ.]

Thank you Siheng Adam for starting this thread,

I hope we get more responses as i find it to be an interesting oportunity.

As far as the poem posted by sijie Racheli, i can't speak from personal experience, but only give my impressions of its meaning based on other information/literature i have come across.

Murakami, Kijo. (1865-1938)

The moment two bubbles
are united, they both vanish.
A lotus blooms.


I interpret this as a metaphor for the personal experience of enlightenment, casting off dualistic thinking therfore uniting with the phenominal world.

I especially appreciate the visual metaphor of two bubbles uniting,bursting, and diappearing. This metaphor of the bubble is not unlike other popular zen metaphors for the discrimitave mind keeping us limited by our sense faculties and containing us within the boundaries of eyes ears nose tongue body mind. Masters have also used similar metaphors for this "container" such as "leaky shell", or "bag of skin". Once one realizes the deep personal experience of enlightenment and sees past this shell, or bubble, unification is achieved with the rest of the phenominal realm or "the ten thousand things" as its often refererred to as. I believe i have seen similar metaphors for realization as a breaking or shattering or, as is the case with this poem, bursting. One that comes to mind that is famous is the metaphor of the bottom of a bucket filled with water breaking and releasing the water. This also reminds me of something zen master dogen wrote:

To study the Way is to study the self
To study the self is to forget the self
To forget the self is to become enlightened by the ten thousand dharmas.

Regards,

Tim

[Adam Kryder]

An artists progression...

Dear Sihing Tim,

I enjoyed reading your response very much. It is a wonderful opportunity to share our perspectives here on the forum, both for benefit and enjoyment.
--------------------

With that in mind...


I would like to add the next poem for study.

A Thought on My Sickness

Spring mellows on the hill, but the sick wayfarer is suffering.
After the rain passed over the pond, I closed the door to my
surging loneliness.
A novice dashes in, shouting, "lotus leaves have sprouted in
the water."
An old monk comes in, saying, "bamboo shoots have
sprouted."

By Chunghur Hyujung

Cited:
'Because of the Rain: A Selection of Korean Zen Poems'
Compiled and translated into Korean by Daljin Kim
Translated into English by Won-Chung Kim and Christopher Merrill.
"Companions for the Journey Vol. 10" White Pine Press, Buffalo, NY
ISBN-978-I-893996-44-I
-----

For now I wish to concentrate on this monks poems in particular,
so as to highlight his personal progression, and how we all may relate to it.

I encourage all who are interested in this thread to write the poem down on a piece of paper, put that piece of paper in your pocket, for a few days,
and see how it resonates.

Then, please share your experience here


Enjoy!

Adam Kryder

[Charles David]

A poem in my pocket
Still,
Having Fun,


Cha

[Adam Kryder]

A question?

A Thought on My Sickness

Spring mellows on the hill, but the sick wayfarer is suffering.
After the rain passed over the pond, I closed the door to my
surging loneliness.
A novice dashes in, shouting, "lotus leaves have sprouted in
the water."
An old monk comes in, saying, "bamboo shoots have
sprouted."

By Chunghur Hyujung

Would anyone like to contribute their thoughts on the title?

Does it seem strange that a Monk would entitle a poem 'A Thought on my Sickness' ?

or talk about 'loneliness' or the sick wayfarer's (his own) 'suffering'?


Looking forward to discussion,

Adam

[Charles David]

I prefer poems of joy.


Still,

[Charles David]

Please excuse the brevity and rudeness of that last post. I had actually written a longer reply and then erased all but the last line. Here goes:

I remember just before the first course I took with Sifu, I was rehearsing my speech to Sifu, listing all of the things that had gone wrong with me and all the things I had done wrong. In short, a list of my suffering. Well, I never got the time to deliver that speech; he never asked and I never go a chance. He transmitted pure joy instead.

Reading this last poem, my eye catches on these words: sickness, sick, suffering, lonliness, shouting, and I feel bad. I reflect on my own suffering, rather, dwell on it.


I also reflect on the fact that after my first course with Sifu, I felt as though I would never experience suffering again. Of course I did, and was in fact, a bit surprised and dissappointed that suffering had not been totally eliminated from my life. Are we surprised that monks would suffer? Do we commiserate with a certain amount of pleasure when someone else experiences similar hardships? I think about the Zen poet monk Ryokan writing how thin his robe was in the biting autumn wind. People enjoyed his poems for that touch of humanity. A monk with a certificate of enlightenment, still lamenting the cold.


Still,
Heeding the Clock,

Chas

[Omar]

Ok, this one might be a bit cheezy and low level, but here goes my little zen story;


--------
A monk was climbing a steep mountain to see a great master.

In a cave near the top he found the master, showed his respects and sat down to converse.

"Master, please show me what to do, I have cultivated for two decades yet have no understanding of enlightenment"

"You sit down with the wrong purpose!" The master said.

"What?" The monk did not understand.
"You tell me what enlightenment is." said the master in return.

As the monk opened his mouth, the master threw a half rotten fruit in his face with a loud splash.

Speechless, the monk gaped at the master, searching for words to say as rotten fruit dripped from his face.

Just as he was about to ask why the master threw fruit at him, the master smacked his face with a flat hand.

The monk saw the master staring at him with immense intent and compassion.

Just then the monk smiled, tears down his face.
That evening two equals enjoyed tea in the cave.
-----------------------------

Sense?
Or nonsense?
Or

[Kingmonkey]

A Thought on My Sickness

Spring mellows on the hill, but the sick wayfarer is suffering.
After the rain passed over the pond, I closed the door to my
surging loneliness.
A novice dashes in, shouting, "lotus leaves have sprouted in
the water."
An old monk comes in, saying, "bamboo shoots have
sprouted."

By Chunghur Hyujung

Spring mellows as he reaches the peak of live and realises that youth is fading. Summers' to arrive, but the wayfarer is sick and suffering of midlive crisis or depression etc. After the worst has past desillisionement takes place and he closes the door and realises that he after all is alone.
Then, he's lucky, a novice dashes in, a glimpse of infinite peace, the dimond like lotus sparkles in to his live. He follows this "feeling" and then sometime an old monk walks in, the realisation of the glimpse, asureance, and its something that can grow quite fast and high if you let it.

Why should Chunghur Hyujung give a thought on his sickness?- Because there normaly has to be some kind of sickness to find the way out of samsara.

[Adam Kryder]

Clarity through progression

Dear all,

I would first like to thank Charles, and KingMonkey for their very relevant and concise replies! I would like to use their replies to relate my own experiences of this poem.

I prefer poems of joy... my eye catches on these words: sickness, sick, suffering, loneliness, shouting, and I feel bad. I reflect on my own suffering, rather, dwell on it.

In fact, this was one of the responses I was looking for. And in these lines we can see how this poem, once we open ourselves up to experience it, is quite a powerful tool for cultivation.

and equally as relevant and powerful are the following two quotations:

I think about the Zen poet monk Ryokan writing how thin his robe was in the biting autumn wind. People enjoyed his poems for that touch of humanity. A monk with a certificate of enlightenment, still lamenting the cold.

Why should Chunghur Hyujung give a thought on his sickness?- Because there normally has to be some kind of sickness to find the way out of samsara.

If nothing else "A thought on my Sickness" brings to us a powerful reminder of how deeply fortunate we are to be human, and that humanity is indeed an incredible opportunity.

And that walking a path of cultivation is indeed one of the greatest acceptances of Humanity. Honesty, and Integrity unbound...

But to only give you "A thought on my Sickness" does not do the authors progression full justice. One of the great treasures of this volume of poems are the "Deathbed Songs" of various monks.

Please write down this poem with your own hand, and enjoy it during your daily life. This way, experience will be rendered quite naturally...

"Deathbed Song"

A thousand, ten thousand thoughts----
snowflakes on a red-hot furnace.
A mud cow plods through the water,
and the earth and sky burst open.

Chunghur Hyujung

Indeed, worth our time. I look forward to your responses.



Homage to the past Masters.

[Kingmonkey]

Thank you,
this is a nice one

"Deathbed Song"

A thousand, ten thousand thoughts----
snowflakes on a red-hot furnace.
A mud cow plods through the water,
and the earth and sky burst open.

Chunghur Hyujung

On my deathbed I have lain, a thousand, no, ten thousand thoughts arose and instantly disappeared like snowflakes on a red-hot furnace.
A cow made of mud plodded through the water and merged with the pond, this was the moment when earth and sky burst open and vanished.
From form to formless.
Now I am reborn. Same body, same place, same live, different mind.
So here I sing my deathbed song......

Namo Amitabha Buddha

[Racheli]

I think Zen poets can be considered as the first filmmakers as they take fragments of reality that seem unconnected and edit them into a marvelous scene that makes sense in a most deep meaning.

I like this last poem you brought Adam.

Thanks,

Racheli