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Cargando... Zen Poems of China and Japan: The Crane's Bill (Evergreen Book)por Lucien Stryk, Takashi Ikemoto (Traductor)
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Capturing in verse the ageless spirit of Zen, these 150 poems reflect the insight of famed masters from the ninth century to the nineteenth. The translators, in collaboration with Zen Master Taigan Takayama, have furnished illuminating commentary on the poems and arranged them as to facilitate comparison between the Chinese and Japanese Zen traditions. The poems themselves, rendered in clear and powerful English, offer a unique approach to Zen Buddhism, "compared with which,' asLucien Stryk writes, "the many disquisitions on its meaning are as dust to living earth. We see in these poems, as in all important religious art, East or West, revelations of spiritual truths touched by a kind of divinity." No se han encontrado descripciones de biblioteca. |
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Google Books — Cargando... GénerosSistema Decimal Melvil (DDC)895.1Literature Literature of other languages Asian (east and south east) languages ChineseClasificación de la Biblioteca del CongresoValoraciónPromedio:
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The wind blows hard among the pines
Toward the beginning
Of an endless past.
Listen: you’ve heard everything.
Others:
On death, from Tokken (1244-1319):
Seventy-six years,
Unborn, undying:
Clouds break up,
Moon sails on.
On death, from Dogen (1200-1253):
Four and fifty years
I’ve hung the sky with stars.
Now I leap through –
What shattering!
On death, from Shoten (11th century):
Leaving, where to go? Staying, where?
Which to choose? I stand aloof.
To whom speak my parting words? The galaxy,
White, immense. A crescent moon.
On enlightenment, from Shinsho:
Does one really have to fret
About enlightenment?
No matter what road I travel,
I’m going home.
On learning by being quiet, from Kakua:
Fisting, shouting like a petty merchant,
Saying, yes, no: quicksand.
Cease pointing, explaining. Keep quiet.
There: now hear the flutist coming home?
On solitude, from Zengetsu (833-912):
Mind, mind, mind – above the Path.
Here on my mountain, gray hair down,
I cherish bamboo sprouts, brush carefully
By pine twigs. Burning incense,
I open a book: mist over flagstones.
Rolling the blind, I contemplate:
Moon in the pond. Of my old friends,
How many know the Way?
As well as this one from Zengetsu, which I love:
A vegetarian in shabby robe, my spirit’s
Like the harvest moon – free, life through.
Asked where I dwell, I’ll say:
In green water, on the blue mountain.
On transience, from Dogen:
The world? Moonlit
Drops shaken
From the crane’s bill. ( )