Japanese zen poetry.

My hut lies in the middle of a dense forest; Every year the green ivy grows longer. No news of the affairs of men, Only the occasional song of a woodcutter. The sun shines and I mend my robe; When the moon comes out I read Buddhist poems. I have nothing to report, my friends. If you want to find the meaning, stop chasing after so many things.

Ryokan.

Late in my life I only care for quiet. A million pressing tasks, I let them go. I look at myself; I have no long range plans. To go back to the forest is all I know. Pine breeze:  I ease my belt.  Hill moon:  I strum My lute.  You ask -- but I can say no more About success or failure than the song The fisherman sings, which comes to the deep shore.

Wang wei.

Ryōkan Taigu (良寛大愚) (1758–1831) was a quiet and unconventional Sōtō Zen Buddhist monk who lived much of his life as a hermit. Ryōkan is remembered for his poetry and calligraphy, which present the essence of Zen life. He is also known by the name Ryokwan in English.

Wang Wei (Chinese: 王維; 699–759[1]) was a Chinese poet, musician, painter, and politician during the Tang dynasty. He was one of the most famous men of arts and letters of his time. Many of his poems are preserved, and twenty-nine were included in the highly influential 18th-century anthology Three Hundred Tang Poems.

Submitted July 19, 2020 at 12:57PM by transmission_of_mind https://ift.tt/30nuuBe