A Drifting Boat: Chinese Zen Poetry by J.P. Seaton (Editor), Dennis Maloney (Editor)

By J.P. Seaton (Editor), Dennis Maloney (Editor)

This anthology gathers over 1500 years if chinese language Zen (Ch'an) poetry, from the earliest writing -- together with the Hsin Hsin Ming written via the 3rd Patriarch -- to the poetry of clergymen residing during this century. Drawn jointly by way of the Zen thread, this ragged line of poet-hermits varieties a profound lineage for lots of modern poets.

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Additional resources for A Drifting Boat: Chinese Zen Poetry

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South past Stonebridge , the third one on the right . . JPS Letter to the Wild Mon k Other than the birds , who loves you ? Lordly peaks, you r neighbors. White head cold pillowe d on a stone . Grey robe ragge d but not soiled . Chestnuts pile up on your path . Monkeys circle where you sit . If you ever set up another Zendo , I swear 1'11 be the one who sweeps the floors . Moored on Fall Rive r To an Old Monk on Mount T'ien T'a i Banks like Lake Tung-t'ing, bu t the hills too steep . Living alone where none other dwells , shrine among the pines where mountain tints encroach , old man's been ninety years a monk : heart beyond the clouds a lifetime long .

Come out to meet the stranger in the dusk: whole families, laughing, happy : beneath the moon , seining up fish from the pool. Used to live north of Square Hut . . Nobody knew my name . Up through the clouds to harvest my grain , climbing like an ant into the tree to pick the oranges . Saw a tiger wander by that lonesome village . . Anyone could grow white haire d living a life like that . 890 ) Sno w dense, soundless, falling through azure emptines s swirling clouds sing and dance in the soft breeze .

Living as a Recluse on the Lake On the Lake Returning Lat e Lakewate r Comes into the yard . Mountains Wind round my hut . A recluse Should avoid the world . Lying back, Bulwark for a pillow , Homebound thoughts so pur e I mistake the view ahea d For Immortals Island . Normally shut, The unused door's turned blue with moss . Guests arrive , Frightening white birds to flight . Selling herbs , I almost hate to price them, Love watering the garden According to nature . And how abou t India Roa d Through the woods , Still reaching deep autumn In a distant , Blue dream?

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