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Dogen 1 On The Treasury of the True Dharma Eye Midnight, No waves, no wind, the empty boat is flooded with

h moonlight. On Non-Dependence of Mind Coming, going, the waterbirds don't leave a trace, don't follow a path. Dogen 2 Joyful in this mountain retreat yet still feeling melancholy, Studying the Lotus Sutra every day, Practicing zazen singlemindedly; What do love and hate matter When I'm here alone, Listening to the sound of the rain late in this autumn evening. Drifting pitifully in the whirlwind of birth and death, As if wandering in a dream, In the midst of illusion I awaken to the true path; There is one more matter I must not neglect, But I need not bother now, As I listen to the sound of the evening rain Falling on the roof of my temple retreat In the deep grass of Fukakusa. Dogen -3 Mountain Seclusion I won't even stop at the valley's brook for fear that my shadow may flow into the world. Viewing Peach Blossoms and Realizing the Way In spring wind peach blossoms begin to come apart. Doubts do not grow branches and leaves. On Nondependence of Mind Water birds going and coming

their traces disappear but they never forget their path. Dogen 4 Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water. The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide and great, The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide. The whole moon and the entire sky Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass. Bodidharma Poems Endless Ages Through endless ages, the mind has never changed It has not lived or died, come or gone, gained or lost. It isnt pure or tainted, good or bad, past or future. true or false, male or female. It isnt reserved for monks or lay people, elders to youths, masters or idiots, the enlightened or unenlightened. It isnt bound by cause and effect and doesnt struggle for liberation. Like space, it has no form. You cant own it and you cant lose it. Mountains. rivers or walls cant impede it. But this mind is ineffable and difficult to experience. It is not the mind of the senses. So many are looking for this mind, yet it already animates their bodies. It is theirs, yet they dont realize it. A deluded Mind A deluded mind is hell. Without delusions. the mind is the country of the Buddhas. When the mind creates the idea of the mind. people are deluded and in hell. Those established on the path to Buddhahood dont use the mind to create the idea of the mind and so are always in the country of the Buddhas. The Greatest Gift Wordly fools search for exotic masters. not realizing that their own mind is the master. The greatest gift to others is to freely relinquish yourself.

When the mind is always moving, you travel from one hell to the next hell. If you use your mind to try and understand reality. you will understand neither your mind nor reality. If you try and understand reality without using your mind. you will understand both your mind and reality. You may enter Externally keep yourself away from all relationships, and internally have no pantings in your heart; when your mind is like unto a straight-standing wall, you may enter into the Path. Ryokan Poem Ryokan Poems Down in the village the din of flute and drum, here deep in the mountain everywhere the sound of the pines Too Lazy to be ambitious Too lazy to be ambitious, I let the world take care of itself. Ten days' worth of rice in my bag; a bundle of twigs by the fireplace. Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment? Listening to the night rain on my roof, I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out. Slopes of Mount Kugami Slopes of Mount Kugami in the mountain's shade a hut beneath the trees how many years it's been my home? The time comes to take leave of it my thoughts wilt like summer grasses, I wander back and forth like the evening star till that hut of mine is hidden from sight, till that grove of trees can no longer be seen,

at each bend of the long road, at every turning, I turn to look back in the direction of that mountain Though Frosts come down Though frosts come down night after night, what does it matter? they melt in the morning sun. Though the snow falls each passing year, what does it matter? with spring days it thaws. Yet once let them settle on a man's head, fall and pile up, go on piling up then the new year may come and go, but never you'll see them fade away You do not need many things My house is buried in the deepest recess of the forest Every year, ivy vines grow longer than the year before. Undisturbed by the affairs of the world I live at ease, Woodmens singing rarely reaching me through the trees. While the sun stays in the sky, I mend my torn clothes And facing the moon, I read holy texts aloud to myself. Let me drop a word of advice for believers of my faith. To enjoy lifes immensity, you do not need many things. Han Shan Poems The Road To Cold Mountain People ask for the road to Cold Mountain, but no road reaches Cold Mountain. Summer sky-still ice won't melt. The sun comes out but gets obscured by mist. Imitating me, where does that get you? My mind isn't like yours. When your mind is like mine you can enter here. - Hanshan

Here's A Message for the Faithful Here's a message for the faithful what is it that you cherish to find the Way to see your nature your nature is naturally so what Heaven bestows is perfect looking for proof leads you astray leaving the trunk to search among the twigs all you get is stupid Clambering up the Cold Mountain path, The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on: The long gorge choked with scree and boulders, The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass. The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain The pine sings, but there's no wind. Who can leap the world's ties And sit with me among the white clouds? tr. Gary Snyder Born Thirty Years Ago Thirty years ago I was born into the world. A thousand, ten thousand miles I've roamed. By rivers where the green grass grows thick, Beyond the border where the red sands fly. I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting, I read books, I sang songs of history, And today I've come home to Cold Mountain To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears. tr. Gary Synder My Dwelling at TianTai I divined and chose a distant place to dwellT'ien-t'ai: what more is there to say? Monkeys cry where valley mists are cold; My grass gate blends with the color of the crags. I pick leaves to thatch a hut among the pines, Scoop out a pond and lead a runnel from the spring. By now I am used to doing without the world. Picking ferns, I pass the years that are left. tr. Burton Watson On the HanShan Path The trail to Cold Mountain is faint the banks of Cold Stream are a jungle birds constantly chatter away

I hear no sould of people gusts of wind lash my face flurries of snow bury my body day after day no sun year after year no spring tr. Red Pine All that we are is the result of what we have thought. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him.