Po Chu-i

Lament for Peony Flowers

I grieve for the red peony flowers by the steps.
By this evening two branches have withered.
Tomorrow morning wind will blow away the rest.
At night I keep sad watch, hold flame over the dying red.

Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping

Staying at Bamboo Lodge

an evening sitting under
the eaves of the pines
at night sleeping
in Bamboo Lodge
the sky so clear you’d say
it was drugs
meditation so deep, thought
I’d gone home to the hills
but Clever can’t beat
and Quick won’t match
(you just can’t pave the Way)
that’s it!
the Gate of Mystery!

James Cryer

Written on SUng Mountain’s Eastern Cliffs in Early Spring

Skies clearing above thirty»six peaks,
kingfisher-blue mists rise over snowmelt.

The moon’s drifted through three nights
now, spring opening across four mountains

grasses turning distances an early green
while cold birds leave silence unchanged.

Here below the highest of these east cliffs:
nothing but a name l’ve scrawled on rock

David Hinton


How Iushly
the grasses grow on the plain!
Year after year,
they wither before flourishing.
No wildfire can
burn them all.
When spring winds blow,
they sprout once more.
Far away, their fragrance
pervades the ancient road;
on a clear day, their green
extends to the ruined wall.
Now it is you whom I must
see off, my dear friend.
How can the Iuxuriant grass
not feel my parting pain!

Edward Chang