Table of Contents
Preface
Introduction
Song of the Sea
Book 100 The Former Master of Yonder Awe-inspiring Sound —Theatrical performance of the Five Scion Princes
Book 101 The Ocean Seal Carries Me Over to Guanyin —Master Chuanqing lights up your lamp of wisdom
Book 102 The Deathless Youth on His Way Back Home
Book 103 Tonight Our Smiles Meet in a Dream —Seeing the ox purity of form
Book 104 A Stalk of Illusory Lavender —Rousing the hunter out of his amnesia
Book 105 A Gamer inside the Blue Indra’s Net of Subtle Thought—A sobbing hermit crab hides inside a rocky promontory
Book 106 Extreme North Pole Peaceful Fishing Village with a Small Harbor
Book 107 Red Flowers Dropping from a Blue Cliff —A delightfully lucid conversion scroll
Book 108 Midnight Shoes Idle, Feet Rushing About —A bottomless boat can carry the moon
Book 109 An Old Timepiece Mislaid by Memory —Seven nights waiting for that momentous event 17–23
Book 110 What Seems To Be the Slightly Open Eye of Dusk in the World Sea of the Ten Directions
Book 111 Mysterious Shadow on a Fragrant Path The World’s First Sunrise — Luminous Purple Scroll of Crystalline Diamonds at 109.5° A Solitary Leaf


Preface
Soaring in the Dharma realm, exhibiting the light of the mind •
All kinds Luminous Purple Scrolls of Crystalline Diamonds •
Floating banners amongst the supreme fragrance of flowers
Pregnant with the seeds of the world •
Spring breeze wafting in •
Nowhere without red flowers •
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Introduction
⋯ ⋯
There is a me, beyond the phenomenal
Experiencing the distinctive mark of truth
It’s my native place, free of loneliness for a millennium
There is a me, on the seam of waking and dreaming
With two rotating fingertips
Gently turning a stunning rose
To see who is smiling
There is a me, within understanding
A rain-moistened mortar
Who is it who uses a chisel of water to carve the totem of an ancient battlefield
There is a me, in the window of dreaming and waking
Participating in the graceful bearing of a paragon of virtue
Witnessing the flowers singing the praises of spring
The maple trees deep in the mountains love to listen to the stories of the Old Woodcutter
The blue-green crags in a secluded glen love to count the flower petals dropped by the birds
The Traveler in the wilderness of the sentient world
Leading an idle life in a quiet place
Unwittingly falling asleep and pursuing a dream
In a wind-locked gorge there is a monster hunting in the ten directions
The Visitor in the original dream of true love for the world
Wants to again search for a dream and bring it to perfection
A flock of birds nesting in the treetops having an impromptu banquet
Birds with nowhere to perch tonight circling under a rootless tree
Yesterday wearing clothes and eating food
Today going out to work
No vexations whatsoever in the mind
This is a miracle
Why, then, still in the ancient misty garden cognizing shadows dragged about by the wind
If asked about the meaning
I’ll answer with the song of the sea
……
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Song of the Sea
◎ A poem by Yu Hsi

Oh Youth!
Do not believe the wind do not believe the waves
Those tears in the eye solidified into a tainted appearance
A surging pulse wave between the eyebrows of the beloved
The fingertips of sentient beings now trembling

Lingering in thousands of dreams lingering in thousands of dreams

Sweet gum leaves redden
Maple leaves turn blood red
Tender eyes reflecting the object of their longing
A captivating expression casts forth the fairies of love.
Over thousands of aeons, deaf to the calls to return over thousands of aeons, deaf to the calls to return

The flowers of spring now bloom
Summer abounds with the scent of lavender
In the capital of illusion there is an undying spirit
Night after night, making incursions into the ear
Broadcasting the song of the native place.
Oh Youth! Do not believe the wind
Oh Youth! Do not believe the waves
Virtual compassion dismisses childhood laughter
Within the secret formula of life
The only thing you can believe is
That ancient compass that always points south.

Oh Youth! Do not believe the wind
Oh Youth! Do not believe the wind.
... ... "Song of the Sea" is the first act of the play; it’s a kind of expression of inner feelings. As the long curtain opens, a young woman plaintively chants. Dreams are the repository of all sorts of emotional attachments, some of which can be turned into a spiritual objective. At the end, the repetition “Oh Youth! Do not believe the wind” is like an ephemeral voice drifting in from beyond the horizon. It seems to be beckoning from an infinitely distant virtual space; yet it is somehow genial and familiar, like a mother calling out to her child ... ...

—Yu Hsi • Excerpt from “Musical Analysis”
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Book 100 The Former Master of Yonder Awe-inspiring Sound
—Theatrical performance of the Five Scion Princes

Waxing and waning phases of the moon become convex
Self-nature originally childlike
Old junipers exuding a surpassingly fragrant aroma
The most subtle quiescence

Clambering on past objects causing kudzu vines to spread out
Dust mixed with sand obstructing the essence
This is why in a dream you retain your shape
A clear sky suddenly filled with colorful dust traces
White and clear sky, gave birth to
the blue planet
Since then the ten directions and three times have been overlapping in the eternal mountains of the universe
Never-ending ...
The Metaphysical Traveler
Nothing lacking, nothing extra
Whence such an obstructed cowardly heart
Not the seeds of the Buddha
Knowledge and vision circling
Compassion and loving kindness are the two wings of sentient beings
If the bodhisattva heart can turn around material objects
One can fall into fire
Without getting burned
A dreamer
Dreaming in a dream
A play in a play
A play in a play
Art and the way
Harmony of difference and equality
The fierce wind blowing up a sand storm impels the host into a delusive dream
Providing the mind of the guest with a skillful means
Fatiguing his dream body
Indulging in sights and sounds strung together
Splitting my heart
Since time immemorial
Drunk in a dream of the past
Someone directly enters the present yet remains groping about in a dream
Future subtle thoughts and spiritual awakening
Are hidden in the dream objects.
The Master of the Baihua Pavilion
The old pavilion was originally the top of the old capital city
Under the Traveler’s feet are
The buried ruins of the palace of the ancient kings
Due to the gears of sight and sound
In mutual grind and push ever turning
Slightly shifting subtly transforming
It’s the Dharma abiding in the Dharma's position
The immutability of the marks of the world

The Master of the Wanhong Pavilion
Observing three youths on the world sea—
As a child I sewed into my clothes
A wish-fulfilling gem, it’s brilliantly turning.
Neither hot nor vexed clear
The demon of the aggregates cast out, like a spotless lotus flower
It’s the flower-person of the true seed.
Without any glue, past images don’t adhere
The body holds an immortal seed-flame
It’s called the Windsurfing Youth.
Who it who confined all sentient beings into the zone of the five aggregates
Sowing the seeds of habit, impelling the clash of karmic forces
instigating legions of demons …
Fearful Mara harassing with strange howls
Beguiling Mara turning into the beast of time
wreaking havoc round the clock
Mara the god of death good at attacking the mind
soft or hard cutting off the spiritual pathway
Then there is Mara as celestial demon, inner Mara, Mara the king, Mara as the citizenry, Mara as a maiden …

The White Lotus Theatrical Troop rehearses the Five Scion Princes
Worship and undeserved kindness alternating
Reality and illusion in mutual simulation

Act one: Like light blown by the wind, cutting thru the water like a knife
Act two: The Kapila Incantation and the Beguiling Song of the Five Aggregates
accompanied by water and fire of the same source
Act Three: A jeweled pagoda emerges from the earth
revealing the former master of yonder awe-inspiring sound
Act Four: Double helix galactic system
the extraordinary situation of the future world
This is a full-scale drama consisting of four acts and twelve scenes.
Cast:
A. Luona is enamored with a somewhat
Mysterious object which remains unseen
Inanimate defilement flame inside purple
Dream butterfly exposes the moon
Center of the sky sends out ripples
Encompassing the trichiliocosm.

B. Mingzhi’s undeserved kindness seeps into the spirit
So that billows surge on the river of love
All for enlivening the fine furrows on the brow
But collides with and breaks a chaotic celestial body
Causing a strand of emotion to turn into a huge wave filling the sky
The vast blue sea instantly swallows
Four defilements, a fivefold object, consciousness forming illusion
Solid store of self-attachment
Uncaused tears already wet the clothes
... not drying for a millennium
Heart gone astray in emotion still wavering
A hot flame warm to the touch now burning.

C. Someone’s true mind missing something
Fetters sealing off for thousands of years
Yonder shore all year without a companion
Mind of the guest not involved with it
Gradually turning cold
Thoughts of a past life
Aeons of causes and conditions
Bearing me is you as well as me
Sympathizing with me is you as well as me.
D. Shepherd Boy and the Public Art Boy
Together driving a large white ox cart
Teasing a big white ox, reclining and playing the flute
Ox in the broad blue sea hanging a lantern and playing tricks, seemingly without knowing the doer
Yet the cart can’t carry the fundamental ancient ignorance of the universe.

E. There is a young man who doesn’t act
Yet considers himself to be a remarkable worker.

F. A young musician named Ocean Seal
Who makes use of his conducting hands
To wipe away defiling subtle views.

Additional characters include the Yogi, the Visitor, the Wanderer, and the Traveler ...
Act I • Scene One
Worship
Someone dances solo in the westerly wind
Red leaves fluttering
In the moonlight of the Autumnal Equinox
Suddenly there appears an unknown image

Scene Two
Undeserved kindness
Who is in the dream
Encountered in the dark and gray
past and future

Scene Three
Someone
Real
Originated in the original primitive ignorance.
Act II • Scene One
In a big round mirror
Appear eighty-four thousand flying chaotic thoughts
Horizontal upside down
new and old shining
hidden latent withered …
Scene Two
The palace of the mirror sea
The hall of dreams.
Act III
The zone of the five aggregates
Sealed off in layers

Act IV
from the song of Huayan singing out the world of the miraculous medicinal tree
following Indra’s net to transmit the legendary miraculous medicinal tree
building a firewall impervious to hackers.
Rootless tree blooming all year
Awakening in a dream
The Old Woodcutter cum Pine Tree Planter tricked the ancient crane
Pushing open, pushing open the ox is gone
Gazing muddled, confusing west and east
Catching sight of a path dividing two mountains
looking it over a few times spring comes late
The Master Craftsman of Consummate Ability who from a lofty mountain
Wields the jeweled sword of the vajra king
Inside a grain of Ganges sand
The Great Caravan Leader of Supreme Knowledge is good at transforming defilements
Into the fire of wisdom, because
In the phantom city he has an ancient candle
which can ignite a spotless candle that never goes out
The Painter dips his brush in ink
A bubble on the pellucid sea
Manifestly knowing how to travel 800 li from a grass hut in the phantom city
all the way to the fragrant treasury
Slow all because today on the sea of omniscience
There is a glut of visitors
If it’s possible to transcend real space
Departing from the abstract dream
Then it’s possible to use the one truth
to cross over …

The Old Woodcutter cum Pine Tree Planter, clouds store up and settle secretly storing
a sailing ship that never sinks or turns back
in the invisible space of the ten directions.

July 17, 2003
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Book 101 The Ocean Seal Carries Me Over to Guanyin
—Master Chuanqing lights up your lamp of wisdom

Moon phase in the first quarter
Abandoning delusion is true
The numinous mirror is the heart
Spike-like inflorescence and dense green leaves is the garcinia
A seed falls in the palm-leaf scripture of spring and autumn
Ensconcing themselves therein
The real master has never borne a load
All that is produced, is that which has never come
All that is a beautiful sound, is that which never goes.
Vandana saints land of felicity
Homage to the Great King of Medicine, the Tathagata
Perfected in wisdom and action
Vandana saints land of felicity
Great miraculous medicinal tree
It’s the bodhisattva mind that awakens sentient beings
Just so the Wave-listening Temple, the Monastery of the Primordial Moonlight
Golden lamp joining the treetops
Boundless lamp light
Just so the Wave-listening Temple, the Monastery of the Primordial Moonlight
Lotus flowers in abundance joining with the tide
The ocean seal carries me over to Guanyin.

Beyond the realm of the awe-inspiring sound are the Cushu Pavilion and the Hejing Pavilion
Master Chuanqing is the founder
On Hongming Mountain there is a tree with three gems, four charms, and five numinosities
Extraordinary flowers of remarkable plants blooming in spring and summer, autumn and winter
The Ganlu Lecture Hall with strongly fragrant Zhaozhou tea
Performing arts center where the Spirit Mountain assembly is still in session
The main hall with its lotus-store world
Bright flower-banners filling the world sea of the ten directions
Spread with layered golden sand suitable for planting the flowers of awakening
Eternal lamp of the five directions spreading the seeds of buddhahood
Bell and drum tower adjacent to the Wind Pavilion
Moonlit coast under a silver-candle sky
On the summit of Hongming Mountain
A great white condor flutters its golden feathers
Land of felicity
Leisurely tide producing a marvelous subtle sound
Vandana eastern sea, where the rising sun first illuminates the treetops
Devout assembly in contemplative communion with that golden drum of the western quarter
Paying homage contemplating the 111 galaxies of the world sea
Worshipping continuous contemplation on the Dharma realm of thusness, common realization
Master Chuanqing lights up your lamp of wisdom
Staging the beautiful life of Siddhartha
Disciples in the ten directions, from the phantom city
Downloading the new legend of the lotus of the wonderful Dharma
Gone, gone, gone beyond
Gone completely beyond bodhi svaha.
Searching for the ox
A thirteen-story pagoda inside a bowl propping up the sky
The master asks
The Shepherd Boy points into the boundless distance
A hammer without a hole strike!
Fine dust pulverized unto emptiness
Falling on a big round mirror
Mirror seeing and hearing that swirling
Never stopping tide surging in the water-sky
An irreversible unsinkable sailboat
A mysterious unbalanced scale
On one end of the scale is distorted space
on the other end is deformed time
A thirteen-year-old boy hands over a permanent promissory note
encumbered by a contract on the new order of a future battlefield
A southerly wind gently blows past a roof under the starry sky
A dream still stranded in that phantom city full of spring
A pair of blurred flying phoenix eyes, wandering
on the periphery of eagle and beast
Scorching sun passionately flaming
In a clear sky without the slightest trace of a cloud
Blank space of the empty bright horizon
A youngster still attached to a dreamlike online game
But on the bulletin board of Indra’s net
Seeing a message from a childhood friend: “You’re always welcome to return”
Yet the logout option has been removed
Invisible and colorless Kapila incantation
cutting across the desolate fields
pervading the mysterious wilderness zone
lively ammonoids and trilobites
flowing thru an ancient palm-leaf scripture
In a dream, crossing over an immeasurably deep river
to arrive at the unknowable world of the future
A cheetah is chasing a small gazelle
The attacker has enormous energy
The victim’s stealth program has long been cracked out
The blue planet’s symbiotic chain interlocking
Contributory condition, the continuous protection of a tutelary deity
The moon reflected in the water of a thousand rivers devoured by Maha Kala
Visibly pleased
Then returning to the starting point
Self-ignorance and self-view, still
vacillating in the matrix of the original primitive sculpture
In samadhi in a dream
The fiercely snarling non-poisonous king of ghosts
Is the most severe teacher in life.
Travelers vying to tell an ancient distant story
Countless asterisms in a bluish green sea
in the dark mysterious night waiting to be put on sale
fleeing meteors drifting in a black hole
The Yogi Photographer uses lens and shutter
To capture—that momentary phenomenon changing and unchanging
locked in the passage of time
In a corridor of light and shadow there is
A praying mantis fond of luring cicadas to their demise
A five-clawed golden eagle sporting in the counter current of a shock wave
The Youth always places his bet on the fervent roulette table
A distorted sound enters thru the window of a dream
Invading the realm of ultimate ignorance
Indra’s net stuck together by reduplicating black matter
scattered mind, chaotic thoughts, arrogance
self-attachment harboring a black wind, even
the passionless Youth’s eternally quiescent light beam can’t penetrate it
The threads of the world-weaving web interlace in the subconscious mind
In the dense forest of the aggregates the flames of the defilements dash against the horizon
What is the cause that cuts off
the main memory network of millions of streams
flowing out from original purity
compelling the integrated circuit of illusion to devour
the formula of true love of the world of sentient beings
Imprint of the moonlight overturning the wolf of the snowfield
The Hunter and the Great Caravan Leader of Supreme Knowledge put their minds together
To compose a new liturgy, fishing up
the collective memories of three thousand visitors
The Yogi Photographer adores portraits and dust
Oblivious to—
existence, finally disappearing into the world of non-existence
non-existence, existing from time immemorial
giving birth to all things
It’s said that beyond the sky there is a sky
90 light years distant
At the center of the galaxy, encoded as / HD70642.

A scavenger says to himself: I’ve had a little success
so I’m willing to help others
Yet the one called the king of the world
Says that his achievement is still not big enough
so the whole world should support his ambitions
A hammer without a hole inscrutable
As it pounds
A boundless mass of plankton
has filled the maze on the mirror sea
That mountain of form piled high
Has long lost its mysterious power
Why is it that it always uses hundreds of trillions of decimal points
To plagiarize the true mind
How is it that it ever uses sweet talk to sway the mind
binding it for days and years on end
Osprey in a grotto sheltering from the wind
Late cloud at the mouth of the valley a solitary crane enters deep into the valley
Calls out long into the sky
Instantly closing down the mantra of the six senses
Ancient melodies like the tide of the eastern sea from
the distant past broadcast into the present
How is it that noble people
don’t hear as it was thus said
In the window someone lights a candle
A dreamer slips into the central axis of the world sea of the ten directions
Tampering with the startup formula of Indra’s net
In the middle watch of the night there is a visitor from afar
Turns out to be the jeweled sword of the vajra king long ago jointly sealed away
Only with the tripartite key
of you, me, and him can the lock be opened
Last watch of the night a stove with fragrant tea
Long strong beyond dilution
Mysterious area with a raft fitted with a new sail
Sailing into the maze on the invisible, shapeless, and weightless sea of illusion
Break of day
Blue bird singing love songs
Non-sentient banana bud hears not the voice of compassion
Wildfire of delusion incinerates the trifles lurking in the field of consciousness
Red sunrise
The old sacred tree places its hand on the sun's chest
In the clouded sky appears a swirling wind-powered fan with three blades: west, south, and east
Midday
All the shadows sketched by the light pen
Are instantly recycled by the real objects of the phenomenal world
Golden drum of dusk
Fire-red further shore
Green reborn from red, orange, and yellow returns to indigo-purple
Transparent moonlight, pearl of the night
A razor-sharp sword like a willow leaf
Cuts thru thickets of clouds
The towering back of the earth secretly tattooed by someone
embroidered with a silver dragon
Light breeze stirring sleeves
In the forest pine flutes graze dancing forms
Outside the window, the flowers flirt with the musician's heart
A white feather floats up
soaring into the lofty misty sky.
That withered rice grain of last autumn
This summer already laden with golden spikes
Lesser Heat, numinous sky drops a timely rain
Instantly filling the alpine lakes
Forming the summer bathhouse of the tree gods
Ancient temple below a wondrous peak
Great bell sounds once more
The dragon girl presents her pearl—
Nonstop tears flow for three thousand years ...
Separated from the things that one loves, turns into a rainbow
Eternal companionship in the territory of Saha
There is extra nothing more □ □ □ □ □ □ □

July 18–19, 2003
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Book 102 The Deathless Youth on His Way Back Home

Contemplating the world sea the wish-fulfilling tree in heaven
roots immeasurably deep
In days of old the master came to the margin of the galaxy
To meet with yonder man of the awe-inspiring sound
Himself still staying in the south prior to the empty aeon
Planting dragon spruce in a mixed forest
The insentient Guest exchanges a 365-day calendar
for a blank year-round log
The Painter sculpts a pair of long-extinct birds
on a pier of the palace of the ancient kings;
The Youth fond of dreaming frequently dreams
that he is a deer being chased by a pride of lions
now and then looking back only to see nothing at all . . .
An alert spirit
Perceives and responds without getting involved
friend or foe
it’s only me
Victory or defeat
All along there’s no calling back the image of a primal memory
It’s identical
With the 6.2 billion grains of sand in the Ganges, no different.
A mysterious midnight party
How can it relieve the suffering of the world
Beings sentient and insentient alike praying for an illusory arrival
How can it make an end of all tribulation
If there is supplication
A magical quadrant will make a miracle—
How is it that rippling colors and dazzling beauty
multifarious original form, is all
black and white unable to bear quiescent images
A flock of dark light birds strayed into outer space
an exotic species roving about in an unknown border area
crossing over, then
losing contact in the net of the god of night
Since then floating in the empty flower world • the water-moon valley
in the scripture of the sea of consciousness
no return ……
Countless illusory objects surging
Repeatedly obscuring that instantaneous spiritual luminosity
Thousands of billions of stars in a network all hacked by the Hacker
On patrol, an inexplicable directive transmitted throughout the netlike sea
station to station,
gradually changed to fuzzy dust ...
Instantly setting off a chain reaction amongst all the gamers
An ancient indeterminate data repository contained in
the boundaries of consciousness, deep combining with deep
Even today no way to log out
Of the domain of delusion.
The first encounter
Childish heart trembling
The Little Girl uses innocence to make a connection
The beautiful Maiden uses purity to hang a net
Together striding thru the door of chaos
Tumbling onto the moving margin of arising and ceasing
Henceforth unable to throw off the illusory net of inverted right
and wrong
cast forth by the paranoid Mara
A northern golden orb weaver spreads its net
Sealing off heaven
Sealing off the earth
Sealing off the blue sea, yet
Unable to seal off the old farmer cultivating the mulberry fields
The Little Girl comes to an arched gateway
Keeping watch for that prayer wheel that appears now and then
A firefly flies in from afar and guides the way
In the wink of an eye arriving in a place with red lightning
Having vowed in an earlier lifetime to be together life after life, the Youth with his harp
Gives her a red lotus lion seal
At times becoming a lazy fox
Accompanying her for three thousand years
Who is it who directs the loneliness of wordless awakening
Willing to bear the sadness of wordless awakening
Who is it who has failed to live up to
The barely remembered lines of Venerable Ruyi and the child Plenum Void
recited in childhood
on a midsummer night
under
the old banyan tree.
Guess: If time has only one second
and space has only one grain of sand
How could the extremities of contact and non-contact
induce real feeling?
Riddle: How can the extremes of form and emptiness
Be the ultimate dramatic ending?
After the blazing fire of ignorance throws forth its thirty-feet flames
Making a crash landing on the stone lips of a mythical beast
A drop of ice evaporates ... seeping out from between the teeth
Dead wood upholds silence
out of fear of contradicting the original plot
Or perhaps encountering a dim heart not yet shining
How to transcend the age of degeneration
A maniac outside the awe-inspiring sound
Keen on catching the westerly wind
But only stirring up the fallen leaves
You me him, waves of discrimination in
Past, present, and future space-time
battling in a virtual net.
My heart contacts adventitious defilements
Attached and stuck
How to transcend turbid view
A fierce thundering fire flames up from the veins of heaven and earth
Detonating a thunderous black light filling the universe
Listen! If one person vows to attain enlightenment
All empty space in the world vanishes
The boundary of the ninth dimension is suddenly wiped out
free to come or go without any obstacles
The barriers of the tenth dimension instantly undone
the cave of the ten directions opens no longer enveloped in darkness.
Innate beginningless harmony spins into the dream
How to transcend defiling turbidity
Dull and lonely
Ice and frost clinging to a frozen crag
Bending not to the affection of spring
wet and sticky . . . adhering
In a drawer there is a letter that has never been opened
It was sent from the distant south
The postmark was stamped in 1951
See the tracks of a song of infatuation
blown on a flute thousands of times
Fragrant spring transforms a cold valley
Disturbing the timing of planting
Hoof print of an ox printed on acres of fields
Originally a flute without holes
making it play, so many times vexed
Groping around in an a purple haze
Perfumed unto the extinction of all vain imaginings
Elimination of fantasy
Suddenly the Public Art Boy appears on the sea of omniscience
In the 42 letters of the Brahmi script in the one impartial Dharma realm.
Dust hidden deep in the ultimate point
How to transcend the turbidity of sentient beings
Summer day sun is directly overhead
So that a vertical pole casts no shadow
Gnostic mind partitioned by a blank invisible wall
Red maples covering the mountain respond to the command of autumn
Leaves instantly scattering
like a swarm of orange oakleaf butterflies
A type of coming together of various conditions
Two types of listening
The undying Youth of spring
Collecting countless seeds of craving in a cabinet
Allowing sentient beings to take them away and plant them at will
Manifest form
one heart, one aspiration
Drive
one type of cause together fulfills a myth
Yearning stirs deluded feeling
one condition produces the legend of a single world
Anxious, an old study
hearing quite a few people tell their stories
Counting, in the heaven of radiant sound
only celestial garments, no weaving
I have a supreme jeweled seal
The pure eye of Dharma can rescue the immediate cause
Inwardly realizing
Immaculate thusness
Instantly discarding sensory perception of the phenomenal realm
The scripture on the sea of inherent nature in the treasury of great splendor
Suddenly breaking thru the array of samsaric space-time
Repository of self-attachment lurking in the crystallite of yearning
All because of him
giving rise to the bodhisattva heart of compassion.
Form doesn’t persist gradually discovering the mystery
How to transcend the turbidity of life
Who is it who personally turns out various permutations of greed and desire
Disrupting the purity of the world of sentient beings
Original perception
Since then, my heart has been subject to the tricks played by you and him
forgetting the message of that childhood friend back home
Who is it who knows those grade-13 waves that suddenly appear
Shattering a round numinous water mirror
The cross-strait ferry stopped due to a typhoon
In an extraordinary secluded valley
There is a forgotten extinct volcano
Spewing out an invisible colorless night gas straight into the sky
Rich in earth, water, fire, wind, and rain
Smoke turns into thunder and lightning, space, sight, and consciousness

Aggregation
And then it’s all confined in the whirlpool of someone’s dream
Thus, I am not me
you are not you
he is not he
Someone is all that remains
Searching everywhere for the eternal door of heaven and earth
hoping to personally realize that adamantine vajra body
How to gain longevity
basic nature returns to its original clarity
waves subsiding to become clear, calm water
Wearing away the impurities of the six gates
Automatically coming to perfection in opening and closing.
Empty resistance
Arrests the feet of a celestial maiden of radiant sound
Time is cut into millions of aeons
By the longing of lovers
Emotion and perception two ambiguous curves
Together compressing the pump of the source of life
It’s brave and fierce
a thousand cranes fly out from the hub of the wheel of time
It’s power and force
depending on a déjà vu memory extending into past lives
one can find that ancient crossing prior to the causes and conditions of past lives
diving into the sea of knowledge
The scripture on the sea of essential nature again opens
Another interface card game
Annihilated . . .
dust and foam of the sense faculties gone without a trace
Natural elegance of the childlike mind
Again logging in from a place of spacious brightness
Seeing a tear in the eye of a celestial being of radiant sound
flooding the sky of the saha world
At this point, a canary with bronze plumage
Flew back quietly
Visiting the deathless Youth on his way back home □ □ □ □ □ □ □

July 20, 2003
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Book 103 Tonight Our Smiles Meet in a Dream
—Seeing the ox purity of form


Numinous space, empty brightness
The crescent moon gazing round and round
not seeing those who have come before
Bodhi tree with hidden flowers and fruit, axil without stem
Delicate florets spread with glittering dark purple spots
Kindly speech of a gentle breeze the beatific tree god counting
Ancient stories
On the first watch of a sweltering summer night, the Little Girl invites the canary
to go exploring in the mysterious native garden
Ferns with algae, mushrooms, moss
and lichens, dwelling in symbiosis
Extraordinary memories of the past
In waking and sleep, harmonized
Recycled and filed in awareness and dream
Ice sailing and kiteboarding, these are the Youth’s
favorite winter and summer sports
The Scion Drifter joins palms and prostrates
kissing the earth, devoutly paying homage to the
earth god
Sunrise and sunset blade and point in a firefight
Exposed edge displaying red.
The world of self-attachment and
everything dependently arising therein
Putting on the life chronicle of innumerable sentient beings
For you, who can see and hear
summoning your spirit—
In my universe, all the dead leaves
although already reduced to ashes
Below the overarching sky, the mass and energy of the fallen flowers
can’t be said to be non-existent
you, sentient beings always make their loved ones worry
With his woven network of stars, the Traveler logs out of each domain of delusion
So as to not become the next
galactic wastrel never returning home
It’s said that in the world of the awe-inspiring sound
There is yet another me
Those who wish to comprehend
Need only wake him up
Suddenly that self of the illusory world of phenomena
retreats into obscurity.
An offline kite
Flies back into the hands of the Child
Who is it who has contacted that real world
Mysterious seeds of ignorance germinating
mysterious elements of probability in a game
The Youth fondles that purple seashell
Given to him by the Maiden when he left home long ago the whorls of which
are said to contain
the energy of the scripture of the great trichiliocosm
Seeing the ox purity of form
Rhino king, a deep heart towards the Shepherd Boy
From the silver world beseeching the dense forest of the aggregates
Sparse sound unborn distorted rhyme desolate
The awe-inspiring sound thundering, meeting the dancing mist
A great river held up by the southwest airflow
A white feather sails over the surface of the water
Black wind blowing a silver raft drifting into
the phantom city of demons
Cloud-borne eagle with a drawn out voice, calling its eaglets back to the nest
Suddenly a sun-like raft halts in the sky
Anxiety set off by sound
Instantly eliminating all objects together with sounds heard
Just like a knife cutting water
wind blowing light
It won’t damage a single hair.

The Little Girl on a lake full of moonlight
Lights thirteen candles
All alone on her thirteenth birthday, still

Can’t wait for the canary to come back as arranged last year
Night dark sky performs a mysterious ceremony
Dressed in a dark cloak
Covering six sensory windows
Shutting down the roving emotions
Making a rubbing of clutched perceptions
Mother Earth naps all night
Disregarding the parent-child game
Heaven and earth fallen silent
A pair of fixed big feet in a dream going everywhere
A letter from a girl in Greenwich
"Taipei time at 9 am
That's six o'clock for me
As for the time difference between the two places, Taiwan is 15 hours faster
So you're always in my future
And I’m always in your past,
This sort of space-time difference quite suits my frame of mind."
Long waves glistening on a broad river
Binding the heart of someone reluctant to go
Listening to the waves spindrift harmonizing with the southerly wind
Returning sound each surge showing off on the shore
Reflected light of the twilight sunset
Dying red the dorsal tiles on the mountain temple
Dazzling cloud-mountains and glowing banners
Laying out a mysterious typhoon loop
At the time of Lesser Heat
Typhoons large and small make their appearance
Eager to meet fearless
Indian almond tree next to the Wind Pavilion, branches and
leaves grown more vigorous
Not confused
Facing the mirror all night, reproducing itself
Knowing the mandate of heaven
Self all day in the e-window of perception
surrendering into the sky-bright Indra’s net
Three hottest days of Greater Heat
The hot sweltering airstream desiccates the old coconut trees
fronds dropping one by one, all part of the regeneration plan
a new flower bud mounts the zenith
Ten fingertips, reprinting the true effect of thousands of generations
A point between the eyebrows, printed with a small vermillion point
Waiting for someone with a connection for three lives who has forgotten true love
To sign in again—
How is it that today’s network of digital optic fiber
Is encroached upon by the analogous microwave of yesterday
An invisible formless severed line, instantly cuts off
scenes of joining and separating
In the world of sentient beings due to yearning.
Summer afternoon sound of thunder rumbling
Suddenly there falls an impetuous northwest rain
My heart follows the sound of water dropping outside the window
stealing into the e-network
gently tapping the door of its numinous pivot
waking up the soul of an e-dream
Hot beach is the cheek of the sea
Fiery chest of the earth trembling
Two five-fingered mountains make clenched fists
Flowers of awakening play a song of joy from the fullness of heaven
Cooling the body . . . by extinguishing the flames of the defilements
Contentment a feeling beyond words
Perhaps it’s the compassionate tears of the bodhisattva, irrigating
the barren desert long dry
A warm southerly wind blowing over the clear water
wave and light delicately moving in fine ripples
following the undulating white clouds
From far off on the mountain come the buzzing of cicadas and the chirping of birds
A kind of subtle contemplation
coming and going on the soles of the feet
Night quietly drapes on the Milky Way like a scarf
Azure blue mountain, already dissolved into the setting sun
then hiding together
The god of night fond of playing games
Nightly releases a romantic legend
The Youth’s wanton heart
Soars into the turbid net of the sky, morosely anxious in lingering darkness
Recurrent thoughts like trifling seeds of ignorance
blown by the wind thru a latticed window
Flowing spring with nine rays of numinous light, cutting past
the still-life painting of someone’s heart
The Painter wields his brush
Rosy clouds in a bright sky instantly become the dark ink in an overcast sky.
The lonely Maiden on a long midsummer night
Dreams of a dancing blizzard of icy frost
In childhood always fond of pretending to be herself
Little does she know that on the other side of the galaxy there is another world
On a rocky crag a lonely crane calls out
Soaring up—chasing the wind
In the northwest millions of dark clouds
Gathering together sprawling and covering
converging in layers to form a thunder field
Three claps of thunder and daylight is finished
A few distant flashes of lightning without thunder
Haltingly break thru the depths of the dark valley
A nine-whirl Rumphius' slit shell
Sounds off at a quarter to three on the afternoon of June 19, 2003.
Welcoming the Summer Solstice with a red lotus as the seal stone
Engraved with Prabhutaratna’s sleepy fox
Recalling nine days ago at four thirty-three in the afternoon
The earth once again released its energy
With its 6.5 magnitude reaching the coastal mountains
35.5 km east at a depth of 27.6 km
The old gardener said:
"The earthquake has come, and SARS is gone!"
I pass by the little bridge seeing something hiding in the entrance of a hole
a dazzling beautiful snake shaken out of its lair
Tonight our smiles meet in a dream
□□□□□□□

July 21–22, 2003
Hall of Fragrant Recitation
==back to top==


Book 104 A Stalk of Illusory Lavender
—Rousing the hunter out of his amnesia

Listen, someone is baking sweet potatoes in a kiln under the night sky
using a fire iron to adjust the red flames
but can’t find the new moon anywhere
Trees invisible in the darkness
Spring flowing below a vast desert
Inside heaven and earth within the universe
The Painter fond of painting
Books shelved in the sky—
Ensconcing a phantom city in the mountain of form
Vaguely enveloping mist
The Maiden looks back, hair on the temples fine as frost
The Old Grandmother has lost her antique mirror in the mountains
Stone pathway covered with moss, gently locking
the Traveler’s pair of slippery feet
Endemic Indian almond tree on the coast
Buoyant elliptical drupe capable of crossing the sea and propagating
Waiting for the ox long parted, easy meeting
The Old Woodcutter planting pines in the clouded mountains
Providing a thousand-year-old crane with a place to perch
Seamless tower doesn’t leak on rainy days
Yet the eyes are moistened by the spring scene in its own courtyard
Confused emotion, all because darkness set a trap
trace and image are turned into ignorance
Should one watch over the mind so that it doesn’t get involved in sense objects
Compassion arises at every turn.
Island invites island
Ferry arranges with ferry
Me with another me
Between dreaming and waking
exiled by that one who shoulders me
Yesterday an astronomer predicted a large rainfall
About 300 mm on the Pacific coast
The flowers and trees were originally moved from the native garden
The new rain forest is already covered with lichens
Seeding the next round of seed-consciousness
One day, someone on a raft crossed the river to this side and put up a tent for the night
mountains of flickering clouds going gradually from green to red
The valley mouth of numinous peaks is the first to approach nightfall
The high cliffs suspended in the clouds are the first to greet the sunrise
Towering waterfall like a mighty river flowing upwards into the heavens
spraying a mist over forested mountains
Summer afternoon thunderstorms
The roots of old trees are busy drawing water
leaves hastening to cover the small flowers and grass
The Visitor passing thru
Feet swinging left and right with an irregular kinetic frequency
Mouth busy chewing on the memories
Of the licorice and fragrant flowers savored in childhood
His mouth suddenly hums
"My hometown is my favorite place
Since childhood I’ve loved to sing in the cotton fields ... ... "
With the corner of his eye he scans all over and then shouts
Just to prove that he exists.
The early morning lotus flowers invite the evening water lilies
To have a contest to see which one has the brightest colors
At night, white clouds budding with moonlight
Snow waves blossoming on the quiet sea
The tide still carries on
From dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn
chattering endlessly
Evening sky in summer
A red hot sunset waiting on the horizon
for the windsurfing Youth to return on the waves
Night the galactic Loafer
In the primordial vague web of Mara
Searches for a mysterious micro-dense factor
The marvelously turning Youth has a preference for the abstract, with the snap of a finger
Opening a long scroll kept in his sleeve
Containing a picture of endless mountains and rivers
Forthwith the Wanderer’s drifting mind
travels in pure thought, back to
the original illusory Wanhong Pavilion—
On yonder side infinitely far away
The golden drum drops into the water and continually calls out
a celestial maiden of streaming radiance drops
a glimmering tear into a glass-like heart of ice
quietly kissing the moonlight ...
The native-place Youth’s
Momentary perception sees that pair of deep black eyes
Meeting again after countless aeons.
Night train speeding along under the boundless starry sky
Daylight suddenly appears
The sound of the whistle sounds at the front of the third platform
Where someone is already waiting for someone returning
But a hint of dark blue between the eyebrows hides
In my mind-wave disguised as a smile and flows backwards
Midsummer lotus petals eager to greet the dawn
Sudden burst of rain and wind
Familiar concern of that pair of eyes
Flashing bright crystal beads at the moment
unable to tell if it’s tears or rain . . .
Pity and love are not deliberately woven
But after separation
The force of longing can’t draw in the original power of emotion
It’s a bead of sweat it’s water vapor . . . vaguely penetrating
that heroic courage, powerful and compassionate
Acquaintances originally acquainted thru the causes and conditions of past lives
Knowing the sound yet unable to perform the original melody
For the initial notes were played long ago on a river in a dream
The Traveler says that in the middle of the night the noisy cicadas kept him from sleeping
The Visitor says that just before dawn
the cicadas make a lot of noise
Fern, fungi, algae, grass, trees, flowers
Vying to lend their color to the mountains
Above a solitary chime, each sound gently entrusted
Only the water of compassion can irrigate
the flowers of perfect enlightenment planted by true love
Within the winding Tathagata-garbha
There is a kind of mysterious magnetic field energy
Able to restore the original face
memory • time • aeon
Past and present, original purity.
Thundering sky torrential rainfall
Turned into billions of fine chains whipping space
Causing my illuminated state of mind to dive into the sea of ​​consciousness
inspecting a great bright mirror
The south wind blows in the distant sounds of the Shepherd Boy's flute
Vaguely vague ... in harmony with an ancient Saha rhyme
Beyond the heavens the call of an eagle affectionately
taking hold of the past loving voice of a mother eagle
Melting snow of a glacier seeping out from the cracks in the cliff
Lightning detonates a celestial fire burning off the thorny brambles
The relentless hunter enters into a grim factor
Setting a secret trap, to lure and capture
curious mythical birds and beasts
There is a crane squawking all day
There is a lion roaring a lion’s roar
Instantly amassing all sounds
Into eighty-four thousand subtle sounds
— Rousing the hunter out of his amnesia!
At this time
a beautiful paradise
The constellation Orion reappears.
Primitive peoples still using
Flint to start a fire
Logs to make rafts
Paddling across wide cascading rivers
Rolling spray jumps thru a notch
Several small white flowers stick out from the cracks in a cliff
Time flows down three thousand years
Ancient stalactites on the seabed
A solitary boat on the boundless sea encounters a storm
Someone adrift beginning to awaken from a deep sleep
Why those teary eyes could it be that
A sad memory was met with in a dream
The fruit of the future, in the doorway of thusness
there is only one kind of eternal grass, green and fragrant
The dusty emotions of the past
still have to go through the fifty-three doors of arising and ceasing
Inside each door a bird holds eighty-four thousand kinds of fallen red flowers
In the theater of the native place there is still a relief of the big white ox
A world-weaving net of emotion hacked by a hacker
Casually discarded in the dense primeval jungle of the aggregates
where no one has logged in yet
What is it that hooks
a mysterious gamer's heart
To break thru the mysterious seal of the universe
arriving at a secret place beyond a secret place
in the jungle of the aggregates picking up
that fragmented world-weaving net of emotion
resetting the boundary—logging in and calling out for a rescue
Such is the bodhisattva heart, day and night
In the virtual world seeking
That tiny little puzzle
See that pair of unfettered fish from the deep sea
undauntedly swimming upstream thru rivers and lakes
all because they can never forget their native place
Who is it who can go against the current
Concentrating the initial resolution
into the setting sun, returning it to the earth
Such is my heart
That it can enact the infinite vitality of the universe from generation to generation.
There is a thought subtly shifting
There are feet walking on stilts
The heelpiece accidentally kicking
a stalk of illusory lavender
Moonlight easily guides the way, washing clean the golden sand
The Visitor leaving footprints suddenly realizes no trace
The Youth planting flowers arrives alone at the
Summit of the snow-swept mountains • the top of Vulture Peak—
Buffeted by the wind on eight sides
Faint sound of sand and the murky phenomena of the sixth dimension
circulates clean and unstained eyes
Weeds thickly spreading
covering the situation below
On the magical stage of inhumanity
A no-holds-barred performance on a long summer night
Figments of the imagination sun generating appearances
Space and dust grinding together, suddenly producing a mirage . . .
all due to the materialization of primordial seeds of clinging
A dream in a dream
A pair of hazy eyes waking from a long sleep
First seeing patchy clouds dotting the clear sky
In the west a whirling wheel of wind and fire
The object in the object
Of the painting of the Painter mysteriously dancing
□ □ □ □ □ □ □

July 25, 2003

==back to top==


Book 105 A Gamer inside the Blue Indra’s Net of Subtle Thought
—A sobbing hermit crab hides inside a rocky promontory

Lotus boat
Peacock feathers
Silver raft moving in the cosmic sea
Old Vairocana
Sketches a parabolic celestial body
Up above the bright pearl of the night
Struggling to break free from the dense fog, emerging
In the sky a five-clawed condor
Spreading out 3,000 snow-white feathers
Carrying a numinous water-mirror, slowly moves
An ancient silver candle lights up seven-color clouds
sporting in the white caps
A spinning pair of peacock wings turns into an armillary sphere
pushing the airstream into an upward spiral
Far beyond the galaxy
In the sky filled with scintillating stars
A naive old toad
Vomits a dazzling light reflecting a seal
On the wings of a silvery white crane on yonder bank
East coast of the Pacific Ocean on June 12, 2003
On the Wind Pavilion
Beholding the bright moon in the middle of a wave under the blue dome.
The sunlight is temporarily concealed in the formless realm
Under the moonlight palm trees and king coconuts
Trunk rings buckled together
Fruits like little pearls
Not for relieving travelers’ thirst
But rather providing the lively birds and lovely butterflies
with sweet syrup
Tonight the moonlight has a watery appearance
A southerly wind visits from door to door
The sea as bright as a mirrored lamp
Blue tinted waves, bright stars
What is that shadow outside the Wind Pavilion
moving on the wavering treetops
it’s not a cloud it’s not an eagle
Looking again, it turns out to be an old oil lamp
over in the drum tower searching for someone’s shadow
Mind to mind transmission • no impediment.
A point in the east
On the pellucid sea ten mysterious gates open
Open don’t open it with the hand
don’t open it with the nose
don’t open it with the mind
a point in the west
The universal mountain of Surangama—
A towering peak instantly gushes from the ground
don’t use a golden key, chaos enters the apertures
a point below
Presenting this deep mind to lands like dust-motes
The hand of the moonlight twisting a flower enters thru the doors and windows
offspring of a wealthy family who never smile
Herding cattle
The Shepherd Boy amongst the blue crags
Sees a little chick waiting to be fed
Nearby
It’s mother brings terrified insects
the Shepherd Boy wonders who he should help . . .
Wherever there is sound, there is dust
Who is it who can eradicate all suffering
Shackled and imprisoned, sounds heard, forms dusty
How can the sword break into pieces
∵ in the secret treasury of three points there is the key to the original dream
The universe in a sleeve releases the wind of emptiness
whirling in the mist beyond the awe-inspiring sound
Polar lights flashing
Starting up a three-day thunderstorm
Rainfall over a plain extending thousands of li is estimated to be about thirty centimeters
Grazing herds of cattle come to the fallow fields.
Two thousand six hundred years ago
A little ant scurried around Vulture Peak
Wondering how to become the king of the world
Eyes of two wild eagles
Like a lion’s, leopard’s, or tiger’s
Passing a vast expanse of ten thousand li
Igniting the flame of ignorance
Eliminating the identification system of the uncommon within the uncommon
Re-interpreting the parameters of the efficacy of sincerity
In the water world there appears in the air a hunter / dragonfly
endowed with consummate aeronautical skills
A pair of large compound eyes occupying half the face
Well versed in silently observing space
On the non-illusory sea of dreams a deity dwells
demonic phenomena not reviewed.
The Maiden dreams of Prince Charming giving her
Two crystal diamonds
Joyous fairies instantly
transmit into eighty-four thousand pores all over the body
A celestial shower
Flowers floating everywhere
A lone trader unruffled by emotion
Has long since lost his memory of the native place
Pitiable are the moths fond of dwelling on silkworm island
A sobbing hermit crab hides inside a rocky promontory
All because it can’t find a shell to dwell in
A cluster of green caterpillars climbs up single file
devouring all the maple leaves
On the miraculous medicinal tree
there is a cicada, a praying mantis, and a siskin
In the gorgeous flowers there are bees and butterflies
and the Urchin
Red and white lotus flowers quietly locked up by the morning fog
Cat-faced dodder coaxes you to again snuggle up to it
Red and white wax apples, a storm gale sweeps past
A great tree laden with fruit, another me carries me.
Road, secretly moving below the Traveler’s feet
Dull thunder of summer coursing above
Threatening—
Spiritual faculties exit the apertures celestial drum sounds again
The one knowing the sound twists a budding note
throws it towards the sea-sky hoping for a premiere
New gamers log into a new e-network
Seeking a stimulating game
The Hacker uses a high-speed search engine
To intercept the road he came in on
Laying out a magical web and waiting in ambush attracted
entering a dim realm, illusory, vast, empty, lonely
afterwards unable to log out
It’s said that on August 27, 2003
Mars will be the closest to Earth
in seventy-three thousand years
All the gamers staying inside Indra’s blue net
Of inverted subtle thought
Need only press the e-key tonight
To display the Public Art Boy's forty-two letters
So as to exit / log out □ □ □ □ □ □ □

All the masters of the natural world
Enjoy a bumper harvest in the year of the sheep
On the bank of the Baihua Stream
I pick up the solid seed of a ballnut tree
Fondling it, I notice a mysterious force
pulling it back to the core of the king of trees
The dark green leaves of the Indian almond tree exhibit their golden veins
Under the night sky the garcinia silently releases its flaming wicks
Ball fruits of the junipers, fragrant light blue
Ancient cedar decorated with lanterns and festoons of purple and red
Wavering fountain tree with a calyx arisen from a past vow
flower buds haltingly growing
fragrant stamens stretched long touching
the eave tiles, showing off in the wind
Showing all the masters of the natural world how to pass a good winter.
There is a mythical bird
The Chinese crested tern
In the mountains drinking dew and playing with dewdrops
Climbing tree branches and counting the leaves
Eating fruit and spitting out the seeds
Serving as the tutelary deity of the orchids
On occasion there flies in a new red leaf
Disrupting the timing of the four seasons
By chance meeting a black-necked crane formerly perched on a lofty peak
searching everywhere for its master, the Old Man of the South Pole
Who is it
Who wantonly climbs an old sacred tree to jump about
Knowing no respect for the tree deity.
The Little Girl with a devout heart
And lovely dance steps makes her way down the mountain
Along the way playing hide and seek with the canary on the winding path
Passing a sweet gum trail
a moonlight bridge
Beside the bridge is a twisted branch in the shape of a drawn bow
willing to be a handrail for those passing by
In a dark valley the Ranger collects
Ancient blue bacteria and green algae
A little squirrel naps between the branches
A Mysterious archer
Shoots a lightning rod at the top of the old sacred tree
Drawing the lightning
The Maiden prays alone in the moonlight
Unconcerned about the tutelary deity next to her
A hundred birds holding flowers all dropped onto the Hejing Pavilion
A thousand cicadas buzz together each sound entering into the Cushu Pavilion
On the margin of the galaxy appears the Dharma cloud and jewel moon
Rising in the east, the sun first illuminates the Baihua Stream
The summer afternoon thunderstorms that revive the Vandana intermittent waterfall
Perhaps drawing out the moonlight from the fingertips
Which can open the door to the chaos of the southern universe.
Birds fly into a thicket
insects instantly hide
unwilling to make contact
Dewdrops perched on beloved flowers
Between the leaves
The Fengbo Pavilion is the dream where the roving Traveler’s feet come to rest
The top Hacker dances up a sandstorm filling the sky
cutting off the road of all the gamers
Holding a non-quadrant power monster galloping thru flames
The Painter shrinks eight thousand li of mountains and rivers
and places them inside a grain of crystallite
Drawn out from a lotus boat.

July 26, 2003
==back to top==


Book 106 Extreme North Pole Peaceful Fishing Village with a Small Harbor

In accordance with nonabiding
My mind why is it so often occupied by emptiness
If there is a remainder, that notion
eager to return to the arms of my mother in childhood
Wavy clouds above
Gradually forcing the crescent moon into retirement
If there is no remainder, the body • mind • defilement • illusion
are gods and men
Summer Hokkaido
Blooming flowers attract visitors from all directions
On the beautiful sea of omniscience there is an ultra-high-resolution lens
Called “tranquility,” used by the gnosis of the master of the world of sentient beings
to depict reality
Beneath a dark blue glimmer
Young men and women dwell together in the e-network of a dream
Dancing nonstop all night . . .
Has he come? Who is that? I don’t know!
I don’t know! Who is that? Has he come?
A mother’s tears are born of worry
Children gone out on a rainy day without rain gear
Behold that white crane in the sky on the edge of the lake
Pursuing a few falling white feathers of unknown provenance
It’s the crescent moon unable to attain fullness
The same horizon
The same evening
The same sunset
Under the sun untold numbers of sentient beings smitten by yearning
contemplate the sunset.
The noble ballnut tree
Small white flowers, opening in the southerly wind
Ovary with one drupe to a room
Inside the fruit a solid seed
Eager to come out!
Initial contemplation is like drilling for fire
A moment of heedlessness and instantly
All is lost
abdication, straight down
all for naught, start again
Deep contemplation is like climbing a peak
In that old lane in a dream
there is a red and transparent lotus inside a fire
Primordial knowledge of things as they are
Is born
Printing space in energy
Continued entanglement
Excess water released from a reservoir
The fjords are stormy
Waterfall runs swiftly over the nine days of Greater Heat
Depth harmonious
Knowledge of things as they are extinguished
Printing form in location
Immaculate and unstained
Wind Pavilion behind a curtain of rain
Baihua Stream baptized by the reflected sunset
Green becomes deeper and thicker.
Observe • listen • return • enter
An empty mountain turns into a rainforest
Then turns back into an empty mountain
A pristine primordial pit
Contacts that initial savage flame
How is it that an inexhaustible spiritual river
Supplies no water to a thirsty traveler
A sharp knife silent
Unconcerned about the sad tears of pain
The earth god generating compassion everywhere
With the body writing an apotropaic incantation
Earth's light gushing forth from the primordial sea of aeons
Whirling into the long corridor of a dark valley
Tree deity easily released
Waving a green-blue jade flute with sky-piercing notes
A black garment, spotted by tears that make an indelible stain
River deity escorts a boatful of travelers down dangerous rapids
then wanders in an old tune
A deep jade spring . . . singing three thousand years.
A dry lotus carries off the dazzle of summer
A safflower conceals a pure white silver winter
An old friend waits in the eighth dimension of the scripture on the sea of consciousness
Waiting to recycle life after life
no “old self” formula
can make the residual images within primordial memories
float in the seventh dimension devoid of illusion
There is a little girl who came to a foreign land by climbing mountains and wading thru rivers
Tired to sleep
After a good night’s rest, waking up
eyes open
Sky translucent white
The mountains and rivers dyed in dazzling colors
In the southeast window appear flowing clouds of rippling hues
There is a long suspension bridge straddling
the valley of the wind
Connecting two stunning mountains like an earth navel
Jambu tree • bent trunk tree
Eyebrows knitted with affection
Nature’s seed of continuity
There is a pine tree on an overhanging cliff
Night air condenses into dew on the pine needles
Below a blue cliff there is a lake
Pellucid, ever supporting heaven and earth
and all fleeting phenomena in the universe
A few small caterpillars love to play between the leaves
The Youth sweeping over the waves of the Milky Way
Gives the Little Girl—
A native place totem
Depicting a moonlight bridge and an ancient ginkgo tree.
The outer and inner world, yesterday, today, tomorrow
sound and form overlapping
Sleeping and waking at the center of a dream, past present and
future
one hopes to bring about something, yet nothing can be obtained
There is an ancient Chan chair just like a solitary boat
Transporting the meditator into the deep wisdom of the lake of the heart
Modern dancers practiced in body language
dressed as a northern golden orb weaver luring and trapping butterflies
Half asleep in an empty aeon
The Traveler has a lazy spot under a tree
Where a dreamer often waits
To steal the Visitor’s heart
Just so in an eternally boundless e-network
there is no ultimate success or failure
If you do not want to fight again
the only option is to go offline / sign out
On a rainy day, I collect a dewdrop on the point of a bamboo stick
But it’s shattered by another dewdrop
As if there is an awakening
Vast blue sky without any news
A new bud emerges from the dead wood
Bottomless bowl providing the primordial chaos of spring
a thousand hands and eyes can’t hold it
up to now wondering if it’s conical or patched
Riding the ox home
Wind in the sleeve blows into the hole of the universe
Wielding a brush of nose hair soaked in ink
One drop shatters the trichiliocosm
The setting sun slides down the ox’s back
Sun rising with the Shepherd’s flute.
Fountain tree blossoms clear and bright
Red pomegranates of Grain Rain
Royal poinciana of Birth of Summer
Spitting fire
Large leafed crape myrtle of Grain in Ear emitting a purple light
Laden with yellow are the golden shower trees of Lesser Heat
Silvery bright is the night sky of Greater Heat
A faint nebula surrounds the Milky Way
Leaving only a hole for delicate stars to enter and exit
Behold that bright orb of the moon falling into the bosom of a luminous pistil
The lonely Traveler hides in a cool corner
The moonlight quietly removes the shirt of the clouds
leaving the sky stark naked
Song of the sea
Is the climatic indicator of the four seasons of heaven and earth
Native pond covered with yellow water lilies
Below the royal poinciana, red spring mud, silent
hibernating in the gray soil . . .
Nodes of time flashing past light and shadow
Flashes of memory swallowed up in sounds and images
A hole in a neatly laid out field
Filled in with a radish by an old farmer.

At four thousand meters above sea level there is a small village
Inhabited by aboriginals
Cliffs trees and trees
seeds jumping
Canyon spruce and old pine wavering
clustered into a large green umbrella
Condor with a white forehead and a golden light on the top of its
head
dashing out of the verdant net
In the cloudy misty sky there is a mountain god
Day and night guarding all the masters of the natural world
After it rains in the forest the spray follows a numinous force
Swirling upward to the top of a wondrous peak
swallowing clouds and spewing fog
The Great Caravan Leader of Supreme Knowledge takes a river ferry carrying
the fingerprinted moon
Inviting innate subjectivity and the acquired objectivity
to learn from one another
It is night, the scarf of the galaxy
Becomes a somersaulting cloud suspended in space
Taking it for a trip thru the world sea of the ten directions exploring
the density of the dust settled in the world empty by nature
only to discover—
lots of tiny debris of delusory elements.
At the bottom of the sea of the subconscious mind there is a secret path
Today awakened by the spirit of adventure
Fragmentary recollections drifting in
the illusory waters on the margins of the native place
Waves of consciousness rolling into the Fengbo Pavilion
T​hunder and lightning on the sea of inherent nature
Turning a prayer wheel to transmit the esoteric cause of the Tathagata
A mixed gas oozes out the eighty-four thousand fine pores
of a supine boulder . . .
. . . turning into a sailboat swirling to the highest heaven
Who is it
who takes that indestructible jeweled sword of the vajra king
and seals it in the boundless world of the secret treasury of three points.
Extreme North Pole peaceful fishing village with a small harbor
There is a treasure raft of raw power
When sailing
It shoots out scorching lava-like flames
And releases an ethereal gas
It’s the delicate fragrance of tea brewed with ancient charcoal
Form segmented into you, me, and him
Allowing one to do whatever one likes
Formless cutting off one’s origin and development
Naturally, you, me, and him engaged in mental actions abide and cease
Thus restoring the sense faculties’
Nature of emptiness as true form nature of form as true emptiness. . . . . .

July 27, 2003
==back to top==

Book 107 Red Flowers Dropping from a Blue Cliff
—A delightfully lucid conversion scroll

The night sky floating clouds intent on covering the sky and
crossing the sea
quietly engulf the crescent moon
Thousands of musical notes like luminous arrows
From the qin in the sky shot into the Milky Way
Instantly turning into
A subtle sound, delicate, soft, and pure
playing a dust-free pure-tone moonlight song
Big Dipper on the celestial Youth’s fingertips
Repeatedly exploding like a thunderbolt
Dazzling red light swirling between the eyebrows
Circulating thru the long nights of Greater Heat
From the mountain temple emerges the faint sound of a bell, brisk and prayerful
Seashore dyed in moonlight turned into a silvery beach
By a batik crescent moon
On this starry night
A crane proudly perches on the crest of a wave
On the margins of the Milky Way.
Last night’s fallen flowers
This morning sing with the spring soil
A distant road retains
the Visitor’s every footprint
Sentient beings’ every imprint turns to mud
yet have no scruples about invading others’ territory
The Insentient Guest’s every imprint turns to emptiness
yet prefers that hazy red sunset
An old camphor tree bright green year round
Beautiful grain writing with eternal literary grace
The story of time, understanding the supremely wholesome
Rotten bamboo produces good shoots
See that ignorant worldling
Sowing seeds in the original nature of truth
Ox forgotten, man remains
Like the bow of the crescent moon
coursing alone above a non-quadrant solitary peak
Two bamboo hats over misty coir capes, one flute
The Visitor fond of performing on a rainy day
A bottomless basket eager to collect the shower of flowers filling the sky
Yet they turn into hanging tangled kudzu vines
Desire is the door of great confusion
Golden lock without a tassel
Dense
Closed
One who can steer clear of entangling defilements
All defiled thoughts return all the sense objects emptiness
Thus he remains in the world of sentient beings
without getting fleeced by forms.
Universal ocean seal water-sky mirror clear
Night flight in the numinous sky
Returning the far-ranging Wanderer
The Traveler puts up at an inn
Where the Master Craftsman pastes together
an oil-paper umbrella for warding off the wind and rain
Confusion, because the aggregate of form is never-ending
Defilements as impetuous and restless as a monkey
Hauled off by sense objects
Spinning paint bucket, like a water wheel
Karma, hot air currents in the southern night sky
Sweeping away a wide river’s rolling waves
Ushering in the blossoming red flames of the summer sky
A tree verdant under the rain
Green leaves covered with dew
Seeds of the world perfumed
anxious thoughts abiding in the worlds of desire, form, and formlessness
deposited in the store consciousness
Tribulation
Dead wood is attachment, a cold rock is desire
The Maiden’s wounded heart obliged to enter the sea of the unconscious mind
For self-healing
Defiled seeds of body and mind trundle along, then
drop into the embrace of emptiness
Just look at those red stove-flames vying to melt the snow
All those tears shed by sentient beings, for whom do they flow
Good and bad
Deliberation and the morally indeterminate
Affective result all in the exceedingly tainted realm of the five turbidities.
Instant extinction
Alpine snow field with a bright little white flower
Appearing amongst the melting ice of summer, blooming only to wither
Fruit containing the ice-bound terminus of an ancient trail
Small village manifesting under the curved moonlight
bright flowers of a dark willow tree reflecting
a primordial sea of aeons
—a superbly bustling neon city
Constantly turning
The childlike mind of purity
Wondering how it grew up
Polluted by the adventitious defilements born of nescience
Oyster breeders of Zifangyuan on the Wanggong coast
On a dark windy night
praying that a typhoon will not come tonight
Decisively a fishing bat curves its claws into hooks skimming across the surface of the water
using sonar to pull fish out of the lake
An ice-bound region has a monster with the form of a god
hiding in a corner of the palace of the ancient kings
On a silvery white ridge there is a white fox
Jumping back and forth
Attempting to cause celestial beings visiting from beyond the heavens
to fall into confusion and engage in karma-producing deeds . . .
Remaining in myriad conditions a newly discovered Arcadia
A wise yi bird guides sailors lost at sea
In a boat full of sweet lotus roots
A bounty hunter from the native place
Eager to retrieve all those travelers in the ten directions and three times who set out from
the heaven of streaming radiance beyond the awe-inspiring sound
Each seed must produce its own peculiar manifestation original dream offering tea
In the middle of a hot day
I sent him a lunch box
he held it up and we ate together.
Thoughts arise and move, conditions of desire meet
My mind clambers and wanders
Quiescent sea of consciousness, dancing
jolt 4.1 in magnitude
Who can surmount all the calculations of the mind
reaching agreement with that pair of compassionate eyes
Someone gentle, obscure, waiting
In the door of your heart
There is no stain of new perfuming
Someone ever minding and protecting you
Lighting up your heart-lamp and extinguishing your heart-fire
Only the bright light, no dust and smoke
Subtle mind of sentient beings
As immaculate as a lotus flower
Dew drops in the center of the sky conservation
Ten million buds
Strangers come knocking at the door
The Little Girl says that her parents are not at home, so she can’t open the door
The Wanderer has no choice but to curl up on the street corner
A gust of southeast wind blows his cuffs
Revealing the top of a wall
A fire-red sunset gradually disappears from the distant horizon
Darkness makes him fall into a memory of the past
Confused and dazed in a childhood dream
Because of curiosity and loneliness he goes in a biased direction
There is a formless kind of spell
That parcels up boundless space
Into hundreds of thousands of small worlds
Sealing off the innate seeds of delusion
Confining the defilements of my heart
in the margins of the eternal aggregate of consciousness . . .
The sailing Youth fond of kitesurfing
Thoughts arise and move, conditions of desire meet
My mind clambers and wanders
Quiescent sea of consciousness, dancing
jolt 4.1 in magnitude
Who can surmount all the calculations of the mind
reaching agreement with that pair of compassionate eyes
Someone gentle, obscure, waiting
In the door of your heart
There is no stain of new perfuming
Someone ever minding and protecting you
Lighting up your heart-lamp and extinguishing your heart-fire
Only the bright light, no dust and smoke
Subtle mind of sentient beings
As immaculate as a lotus flower
Dew drops in the center of the sky conservation
Ten million buds
Strangers come knocking at the door
The Little Girl says that her parents are not at home, so she can’t open the door
The Wanderer has no choice but to curl up on the street corner
A gust of southeast wind blows his cuffs
Revealing the top of a wall
A fire-red sunset gradually disappears from the distant horizon
Darkness makes him fall into a memory of the past
Confused and dazed in a childhood dream
Because of curiosity and loneliness he goes in a biased direction
There is a formless kind of spell
That parcels up boundless space
Into hundreds of thousands of small worlds
Sealing off the innate seeds of delusion
Confining the defilements of my heart
in the margins of the eternal aggregate of consciousness . . .
The sailing Youth fond of kitesurfing
An old fisherman paddles
A mysterious red treasure raft
Towards the azure coast
On the shore the Maiden sits alone on the beach
waiting for someone
It’s said that there are only two types of future dreams
—sentient and insentient
It’s confusion, it’s awakening it’s defiled, it’s pure
Ever intersecting in the dreams of the flower-planting Youth.
Too late to catch the last bus, the Traveler
Wonders where he’ll spend the night
The Little Girl fond of singing arrives at the beach still glowing with moonlight
and invites the tide to provide accompaniment
The wondrously turning Youth takes the fragrant flowers of spring
Turning them into the hundred fruits of summer
Dying the red leaves of late autumn into the white smoothies of winter
Turns out to be the former you abandoning the current me
Claiming that the present me betrayed the past you
Like a Formula One race car
But encountered nine consecutive regional defense barriers
Clustered red and green, indulging
Flickering green and purple, seizing the heart
A pair of transparent blue eyes reflecting a lake
azure blue starlight—
A flock of fireflies flies into a pitch dark valley
Delusion again weaves a virtual galaxy.
Old home tassels of rice
Mashed into mortar to make a tripartite house
Aborigines using mud mixed with high-oxygen twitch grass
Plaster a roof, welcoming the seeds blown in from the south
Mud-brick house, faint fragrance
Wafting out of the four walls
Planting a bamboo hedge
Planting trees to block the wind
Flowers distributed to create a scene of the four seasons
Stream along the stream valley in the valley
Suspension bridge made of vines receiving
the fog year round . . .
My poignant emotion permeates the mountain’s pure spirit
Silent moonlight ensconcing the raw power of life
The setting sun sets out from the Buddha's right shoulder and circles the night sky
On the peak of a king coconut tree perches a blue bird
Looking at the sea
In the sky appears a colorful rainbow
forthwith turning into a dragon freeze-frame
in the sky
Waiting to seal the border.

Wild lilies of the Spring Equinox, solid white
Jasmine of Grain Rain, white solid
Snow wood lotus of Lesser Full Grain, whiter still
Summer solstice, northwest rain
Purple lightning and blue frost meeting
Suddenly the clouds become a pair of eyes one third open
Eyelids opening onto a clear sky, the firmament turns white
A breeze blows in a damp mist
Gradually washing the blue sky clear and bright
Several dark green bamboos sound off the true voice of summer
An early red maple previews the true colors of early autumn
The Little Girl uses a subtle secret sound to record
all the flowing images of past light and shadow
uses an upturned nose to take in
the innate energy of future space-time
Stored in the network of memories in the sea of consciousness.
Blue cliff, red flowers fall
Into an oil painting
A bright flaming phoenix instantly flies up to the highest heavens
Six waterfalls racing towards a notch
After undergoing blazing trials in the world of sentient beings
The Wanderer receives from the Old Woodcutter cum Pine Tree Planter
a gift certificate of clarity and joy
□ □ □ □ □ □ □

July 28, 2003
==back to top==


Book 108 Midnight Shoes Idle, Feet Rushing About
—A bottomless boat can carry the moon

An umbrella fends off that heavy rain
A feather whirls about in space
A drop of dew condenses on a blade of grass
opening up a new garden
A seed falls into the Milky Way
waiting for external conditions to bring about regeneration
Ignorance perfumes thusness
New shoots are not harvested
Bright spring turns into bamboo
If one can sweep away with one swipe of the hand
All the defilements accumulated over countless aeons
Using thusness to perfume ignorance
Restoring the original purity and brightness of the ancient bronze mirror
Such that the sea of inherent nature becomes without wind and waves
whence golden waves vying to rise up?
Past memories, old banyan tree
aerial roots flowing with a milk-like white sap
in childhood mistaken for milk
An eternal seed-flame
hidden in a special place outside the pale of civilization
Fragrant stamen spinning
inside an inverted twenty-level stupa
Cognition, cognition, cognition in the dense forest of the aggregates
Accidentally colliding with the mirror-like wisdom
Heavy mist in the palace of the mirror-sea
Moistening the age-old lichen and moss
Color, color, color boundless world
transformed into everything in the universe
Desire and attachment make it hard to sleep.
Fast wind flapping the lake
Setting the rhythm of the swaying fish tails, guiding the airflow
Eagle using its highly sensitive sense of touch
to determine its position amongst the churning waves
Leveraging force by which the lotus emerges from the water
Stirs up a wave pattern on the pond
Gatekeeper of a phantom city in the clouds
Uses a wall of formless sound
to keep out tumultuous sound waves
coming from the domain of delusions
Endemic garden beyond the awe-inspiring sound
Virgin land of the blue planet newly born from a black hole
fine beams of light seeping out from the crevices in a dark crag . . . igniting
an orange oakleaf butterfly incinerates the overspreading grass of ignorance. . .
A mythical bird comes out of the web, silently
entering into the dark night of thick smoke
searching for an esoteric cause
behind the indestructible vajra body.
The sacred trees on Spirit Mountain hold a conclave
Each over three thousand years old
Together composing the amazing legend of the earth
Away in the distance, pure white year round
A spotless silvery peak with wavy snow, lightly covered
with a transparent film of moonlight
Countless bubbles appear on the sea of omniscience
Each bubble infused with
an eternal memory of the red orb of the setting sun
Observing the childlike innocence of the child who has left home
Presently heating with fire a pile of stones, controlling a kiln
Contemplating requiting him with a subtly interpenetrating lovely dream
Adapting to a type of affective condition that never leaks
Yet presently how is it that someone uses the sense faculties to hunt sounds
using illusions to clip and paste thoughts of avarice
A silhouette turns into 8 × 8
An imaginary space of 64 sections
Continuous form stream of consciousness
All combining into a gestalt
Oblivious to the comings and goings in each section
Dependently arising
Dependently ceasing.
Emptiness and existence expelling the unreal and retaining the real
Indian almond tree embellished with strings of delicate white flowers
Ballnut tree sparsely hung with solid seeds
Mountain-clouds and sea-moon floating in space
Following one’s desires in pursuing the illusory games of
heaven and earth
Mind and object abandoning excess, retaining what’s pure
Mara and Buddha blending in a single thought
Wholesome knowledge keeps in check the flames of the defilements
Rain dripping into a hollow bamboo duct
All the way forward
The Master of the Pavilion says to the Traveler:
"There is no spare room tonight."
If one can use sentiment to pull in notions, connecting
with that childhood self—
then it’s possible to know in advance how to master the other self in the future
Essence and function assimilating the derivative into the original
Bodhisattva heart from samadhi transmitting
news of the ultimate place
Moving towards a secret path, the negative mass of the domain of delusion
There appear the musical notes of the Kapila Incantation
A fierce sun impels upwards vapors of rain and fog
There is a sweetness within the sour taste of early-season mulberries
The sense organs can’t detect the energy of the spirit
Bodhi seeds fallen in the zone of the five aggregates can’t be found anywhere
Within the great sea of awakening there is a supine boulder
radiating light and producing images.
Subject and object covering the inferior and revealing the superior
Eyes glance at you, me, and him without getting detained
Yet entangled by an adversary fond of throwing fits
In the fuzzy net of enticing appearance since beginningless time
A moment of confusion summons a memory in a dream
Who is it who enters the eternal beloved
Into the scripture on the sea of consciousness
Life after life, images recurring
In childhood using mugwort to make a pillow
The fragrance seems to remain, yet I can’t find
that old me
Nature and appearance abandoning reason to make an end of some matter
My image isn’t found on the wish-fulfilling tree in heaven
Only piously providing passers-by with cool shade
At dusk in the mountains, a few scattered travelers
In a foot race on the small path bordered by maples
chests accidentally colliding with cicadas
After the sunset the moonlight puts up for all the wanderers
a little bridge, dustless and silvery.
Going on foot tall mountains piled high
Ever containing all phenomena
No idea that the worldling’s enjoyments are inexhaustible
Binding feet
See the tide pounding airspace
The vast galaxy has a super-fast search window
That uses a pair of endless panoramic zoom lenses
to pursue all sights and sounds
Wrapped grain
Each thought observed moment to moment
A small little tiny pine needle can’t hold a little drop of dew
Drops hit the quiet lake
One wave sets moving ten thousand
The trichiliocosm rolled up by twinkling time
Suddenly, a crane shrieks
Daylight clear and quiet
instantly intercepted by one’s own form
Person and ox both forgotten initial return from the dream
in the hundred cities where vapor and water are not two, sitting erect
an empty and bright solitary peak.
A bottomless boat can carry the moon
A single shoe can’t provide for two feet
Midnight—
Shoes idle, feet rushing about
A song composed of pure moonlight
Prevents one given to wrath from generating thoughts of hatred
For three years, only telling him to work without going to the meditation hall
time flies by . . .
I have two attendants, but I never let them meet visitors
Someone asked
Where are they?
I call them out—
Out come two big ferocious tigers
All along totally harmless
Yet I’m afraid of terrifying the distinguished guests.
At 7:27 PM on July 27, 2003
A torrential downpour fell for 7 minutes in Park Number 7
Sending off the sultry summer heat
With a snap of the fingers, holding up an umbrella
A seventeen-year-old handsome youth ran over and held it up
Saying: "There's a hole in the ozone layer
that’s making the temperature regularly exceed 37.5°—
the average temperature of the human body, and that’s when it gets uncomfortable."
From the park, walked to Xinsheng South Road
At the intersection of Xinyi Road, the rain stopped
Waving, he said: "I live on Yongkang Street."
Thus have I hear, suddenly
Think of the auspicious train ride on April 7 from Yongbao to Ankang
From the serenity of Lesser Grain to contentment galore for 111 days
Tonight the palace of the mirror-sea puts on the affection of a great river
Reverently the moon climbs up to the apex of a coconut tree
The green labyrinth of the mountain-sea scripture
A demonic hacker forces his way into the domain of delusion
Throwing into disorder the deceitful phenomena of the virtual world connecting vacuity and the empirical-consciousness
Vague illusions following snarling shadows
A legendary mysterious beast
Shifts the inverted reflections of the mountain peaks in the bathing pool of the gods
Water ripples deepen with each successive wave
The dark night comes pouring in from the virtual dream
Frightening the edgy Wanderer who blocks his own light
A single grain of pollen blows in on the true wind of emptiness
Already knowing where it will land, no longer hesitating.
An old inn
Using a reverse sound wave to cross over the elapsed time
Returning to the frame of mind of millions of visitors
Old sacred tree supporting a mountain and holding a pestle
Inviting the mysterious painter to sketch him again
Modern people have a weakness for contemporary inverted illusions
East Coast Mountain Range typhoon just departing
On this starless night
The mountain temple’s candles twinkle
Like the eyes of the naughty Urchin
searching a corner of Spirit Mountain
Last night, fleeting purple lightning and blue frost
flashed
An extinct star slightly hesitant
an opportunity long past—
Black light, black wind trembling
How is it that the people in the window are taking so long to light a lamp
Yonder sentient being has long been offline
In his dream within the net of confusion
continued tightening.

August 5, 2003
==back to top==

Book 109 An Old Timepiece Mislaid by Memory
—Seven nights waiting for that momentous event 17–23

A palm-leaf scripture on the world sea of the ten directions
Primordial turtle
Ancient conch
Turning over a Dharma-cloud precious moon inside a palm-leaf scripture
Unbound not leaving behind any affection
Beef wood, a windbreak since time immemorial
Slender inflorescence, grand gray-brown
Purple-red pistil
Widespread symbiotic rhizobia stabilizes nitrogen in the air
bringing fertility to barren sandy soil
Without the lips of the crescent moon
Unable to bite the treasure box of time
Someone opening and closing the mouth
Loudly laughing three times—
Instantaneously every door on a thirteen-layer pagoda opens!
Golden tree at the height of summer releasing a golden rain
Mirage meteor shower at top speed breaks through the darkness of night
Who is it who recoded the moon seen by Van Gogh on July 13, 1889
Reentering, claiming that
the moon seen on July 13, 2003
is exactly the same!
Oblivious—
The past dwells in the past
The present dwells in the present
When the chance is long gone, how can one still be conscientious?
In the west someone made an aerial photograph
Of a rare equatorial typhoon
Called “thrush”
A gorgeous lapis lazuli light glittering
Not stranded clouds produced by clear air turbulence.
Long green river straddling
The vicissitudes of space-time
The lonely owl’s sense of sight
polluted by the dazzling night light on a glass curtain
Hot summer days burning flame scorching the earth
Eight types of chain-reaction hurricanes want to transit
Peripheral circulation
Undermine the fine-tuning of the five object-contingent mental factors
The critical point of emptiness and convergence of conditions
Grey dawn gradually gives way to a blue sky
The window of sentiment and attachment
Purple slowly dissolving into red ...
There is a strong wind spinning out from the palm
Whitecaps extending hundreds of meters on the river of desire
Upwards and reversing, curling the tongue in the
saliva-producing mouth
Primordial wilderness
Silent town
Six cross-knitting ropes forming
the illusory door of life and death on the sea of consciousness
In the six-dimensional space of a curving wave
A fisherman nets in the forgetful little fish
Deceiving appearances of vacuity
By which the unscathed water god has never been taken in
When the dust has gone and has turned to light, restoring
The crystal-like transparency of the mind.
Flying in a dream tip of dew
A pair of sharp eyes, like meteors beyond the sky
Left eye offers a murderous knife of death
Right eye uses the sword of the living
Demons and beasts rush towards the boundless side
Dull and confused icchantika forever freed from obsession
Outside the extraordinary state a bounty hunter
Steals into the domain of the five aggregates to intercept past thoughts
Pursuing a cart pulled by a big black ox transporting baskets full of causes and results
Collecting all the legends of the moment
Completely turning into the distinctive mark of truth
Combining into all subtle origins and traces
It’s fuzzy it’s empty
All turned into a most beautiful dream in the region of Indra’s net.
Seven nights waiting for that momentous event 17–23
Weather forecast for the 21st day of the six month of the lunar calendar
Above, one layer of hot air, one layer of cold
Slowly converging, forming a strange downdraft
In the western sky will appear thunder and lightning colliding with each other
In the eastern sky will appear a glamorous mercurial glare
Afternoon at 3:15 several purple cloud plumes come floating in from afar
The Vandana sangha assembled on Dharma-realm sea of thusness in the land of felicity
At a snap of the fingers a jeweled mirror on the world sea
Installed—abiding in mystery
Forthwith observing the world sea
Pervading space and the Dharma realm, universally illuminating
A ninety-year-old father misses his two sons
Returning to the source recalling
trading for recollecting the mark of emptiness . . .
A fearless city stamped with a talisman
Celestial maidens scatter flowers, stamens bright red like fire
flowing along the stream. . .
An e-dream riding the galactic train away from the blue planet
Entering into of the liminal world to search for subtle-form beings
Who for some time have not recognized e-
Making a circuitous advance ever since starting out in the beginningless past
four seasons turning round another round
Someone on an outing has forgotten that letter sent long ago
Still on standby
Deep sleep unconsciously
Six senses bounded by
Mara and beasts adept at tracking
the other self from then on forgets the old self
Listening shouldering my e-
In the circus playing the tight rope
Momentarily leaving the hand, frightening the gasping audience.
Dusk water lily
Wraps up the last rays of sunlight and takes them in
Narrow path between the paddy fields
the Urchin is still holding an oil lamp and playing with the frogs
Night that stringless qin in the sky
Never having known who it is who knows the sound
Thirteen star-like pearls
Hidden for a lifetime, recognized by none
Little do they know there are eighty-four thousand tiny apertures in an e-network
each one dwelling contentedly in a game in samadhi
Beyond the lanes and allies there are yet more lanes and allies
Beyond the house there is yet another house
It’s the shadow of a tree lengthened by the street lamp
Blocking the way of the gods
Missing is a way of reducing the distance between hearts
Finger presses the key that always receives e-mail
The heartless man is a door that never opens
In an airtight dark room with all six windows closed
who would light a fire!
A visitor asks:
Why in the frosty winter is the sky clear and blue?
Why in the snow-covered mountains do the sympathetic nerves lose their balance?
Someone discovered on an old palisades
Forgotten ancient mysterious hieroglyphics
Legend has it that a few hundred million years ago there existed
A glittering and translucent Craspedacusta sowerbii
That today appears in the original protogenesis pool
below a waterfall in the Milky Way!
Each little girl has a patron saint
Each abbot’s room has a lion’s roar
A grass hut in the mountains with a door and six windows
An eight-clawed northern golden orb weaver climbs up one side of its magical net
In one corner of the room is a broken clay vat
After the rain it turns into a pool where seven dragon flies play
Wolves running out from ancient times
On all sides waiting to ambush the disoriented lambs of the present
An old timepiece mislaid by memory
Carrying infinite deeds of three thousand years, the causes and conditions of past lives
Mother recalls child, constantly remembering
The winter has not yet arrived
shifting last year’s old cotton-padded jacket into this year's new wardrobe
A blade of grass takes root, already storing the twenty-four solar terms
An algae lake with and without waves
The training ground where the featherweight birds prepare for battle
On a square computer screen there appears
the primordial mystical genetic database of the world of the awe-inspiring sound
Child thinks of mother, missing night after night
The scenery of late autumn so good at eliciting yearning
The spring wilderness always creates a chance encounter of lovers
Midsummer night, the Little Girl most fond of hanging onto
that pillow of former dreams, quietly searching for a dream . . .
Hometown people choose Penglai rice with a water content of 14.5°
For making lotus leaf rice, fragrant and chewy
The late-returning Wanderer picks a recently withered night-blooming cereus
Dipping it in boiling water and then putting it on ice
For slacking his thirst on tomorrow’s tiring journey.
Painters are fond of painting self-portraits
Photographers are fond of self-likenesses
Novelists love to tell their own story
The Little Girl loves to listen to the voices of others
A dilapidated boat carries a bunch of ignorant urchins
Meeting big waves on the river
going off course
The Master Craftsman of Consummate Ability formats the boundless world sea
Opening a chain of hotels on the water for boats gone astray
On the empty surface of the river
There is the silhouette of an eagle shuttling overhead
Who is it who can restore the empty sky of heaven and earth
Beyond the closed border
Within the unique state
There is a boundlessly victorious internet-sweeping team
Day and night
never forgetting the hacker yet to log out
It’s said that in a net on the sea of illusion
There is a kind of mysterious maneuvering countercurrent factor
Capable of making micro-bubbles release energy particles all over the sky
Stirring the silent Void
Becoming groups of black holes, the vortex of ignorance
□□□□□□□ Suddenly
Down below, past twelve hundred million lands as innumerable as the sands of the Ganges
The Bodhisattva Wangming emerges from the ground
Snaps his fingers
All the women of the world
Immediately awaken from the world of emptiness—
After enlightenment □ □ □ □ □ □ □

August 6, 2003

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Book 110 What Seems To Be the Slightly Open Eye of Dusk in the World Sea of the Ten Directions

Light, by maple branches and leaves
cut into fine slices
scattered in macramé silhouettes wondrously intersecting
Anxious for Birth of Autumn
Germinal westerly winds break through the blistering heat waves
But accidentally dash against the Maiden’s sadness
eternal memories at the bottom of the heart
Full moon
The sorrowful Seafarers singing a sailors’ lament
Late at night the sojourning Wanderer silently yearns for home
Shore scenery
Golden plumes of the sun accompany the sea waves in a mambo
Sentient beings produce out of thin air a mind palace for someone
granting him free access
Three-lobed sweet gum is a type of maple orange-yellow
like the drooping spikes of rice filling the autumn fields
Five- and seven-lobed is the Oliver maple
fiery red as gorgeous as the glow of dawn.
Road ... entered
Thousands of cicadas on both sides display their affection
The Shepherd Boy switches trades, becoming an online gamer
Logging into the network-sea, hunting for virtual treasure
Leaving behind
a lonely cow in the wilderness
searching high and low without finding the Shepherd Boy
Heaven and earth secretly turn, silently, invisibly
Lightning flogs the window of time
Inspiration barges into the airspace of abominable weather
Intuition borrows a faint glimmer
Hitting the bull’s eye gloomily drifting
Wired / wireless
Both can go online
A pure white feather flies away with someone’s heart
If it’s possible to dissolve the body and listen to one’s inherent nature
Then a prince is born for the weal and wisdom of the world.
Looking for the sound, returning to oneself
Like clear dew hanging in the forest
Involved in the world unsullied by worldly appearances
A starless celestial scale how does it weigh?
Beyond the green hills and white clouds there is the long cry of a crane
Attracting the watchful eye of an old condor storing up disputes
Entering a room, hands hanging by the sides, walking towards the east and south
then the west and north
Vague the Master Craftsman of Uncanny Ability takes up his golden hatchet and chops a hole in the sky
Raising the bodhicitta banner with the eye of the true Dharma at 109.5°
The quiet sand in the sea of omniscience is as white as snow
Silver waves abundantly spread amongst blue billows
Ocean tide singing songs composed by the moonlight
Yonder miraculous medicinal tree
Every evening approached by the Traveler for one night’s shelter
Branches and leaves wavering above
Leaves transmitting a message through the evening breeze
Calling all the rare birds and animals back to their nests and dens.
Heaven and earth form into a dorayaki
The universe melts into its red bean filling containing black sesame
The Little Girl can’t count every mote of dust below the starry sky
00111100 01100110
Writing “one” starts from there
Writing “zero” starts from beginninglessness
Saying goodbye to the past
Forgetting the future easterly wind
Tonight thick sea fog envelopes the ancient wharf
Obscuring the lights of distant fishing boats
The dusky old lighthouse twinkles
Yet unable to kindle the flame-seed that brings the boats back to port
10011001 11000011
A seven-stringed qin in space
Arranges 13 stars
13 × 7 multiplied by 91 to the N-th power
Blossoming notes spring forth from the silence of numinous space
as numerous as the sands of the Ganges
In a lonely corner of the native place there is an illusory hunting ground
An old house divided into six rooms
Each room has a shrine
Each shrine has nine doors
Inside each door is a
seven-colored thirteen-story pagoda of lapis lazuli.
A virtual dream scroll unrolling a flower of truth
Two ends of a scale bobbing up and down on a vast thought wave stirred up by sense objects
Flowers of evil blooming in a forgotten corner ‧ A long-cherished wish of a segregated structure
In a face-off with the coming together of various conditions of
a multi-layered illusion

Double Seven Festival‧Orion constellation pier
Old lovers make a date to explore the old days
New lovers having broken up in three lifetimes
Moon floating in the water tied to the sky
But besieged by the silhouette of a fence
woven of long willow branches
Invisible dancers waving
that ever unparalleled sword of contradiction
A pair of bare feet singly barge into the corridor of time
Instantly cutting off thousands of yearnings
drawn out of the space of six marks
speedily jumping straight thru the ten mysterious gates
Striding into the temple of eternal silent radiance
No longer capturing the sounds and shadows of the past
Although no longer thinking of the lovers of past generations
The mysterious Visitor holds
a reverse-blade knife for cutting time, thrusting it into
the compound form of the causes and conditions of life after life
No longer allowing the black bats of the e-network
to invade a dreamer’s dreams
pilfering past memories accumulated over aeons of time.
July 23, 2003 in the land of felicity
Water-light and cloud-shadows embellish the ancient Chinese fir tree propping up the sky
King coconut exchanges withered old leaves
for new buds
adding yet another imprint of the wheel of time
It was five thirty-seven in the afternoon
When a striking halo appeared in the sky, what seems to be
The slightly open eye of dusk in the world sea of the ten directions
Amongst the blue-green rocks there is an old banyan tree, an endemic species
network of aerial roots spreading all over tightly
gripping that ancient supine boulder deep in the ground
Today is Greater Heat
Grade-7 waves surging in the eastern sea
Layer upon layer of thick sea fog envelopes the mountain temple
Soaking the sultry July sky
On the Wind Pavilion at 3:17 p.m.
the temperature suddenly dropped to 27 degrees
A group of happy birds pulling a rainbow
fluttering about in the sky tinged with magical colors
High-sensitivity eagle feathers automatically change color temperature in a solar flare
The great earth originally endowed with sincerity
adds a mysterious and colorful scene
Moonlight adds a watery glean to the bodhi leaves
Light waves sparkling bright pink blossoms
Dark green parasol, top shifting at will
The sky is blue and white
And a cloud came from the headland
Moon busy providing it with a new color
Night-blooming cereus starts to open, comparing its whiteness with that of the moon
On a midsummer night
The Traveler and the Visitor in a tug of war with the moonlight
Leaving lonely footprints everywhere.
A wise yi bird leads a solitary boat drifting in the vast sea
back to the ancient port of the native place
A golden feather drops into
an ancient pond that never dries up
Vain imaginings swelling on the other side
A lover calls in to the native place but gets no answer
In a boundless corner, someone picks up a letter
that can never be delivered
Because the golden key that opens it was lost long ago
Inside endless yearning
Soaring over the space of the N-dimension
Form, feeling, perception, conditioning, consciousness intermixed
converging into the moving mass of the five turbidities
Today it’s no longer possible to contemplate how after passing the critical juncture
of the Autumnal Equinox
the days get shorter and the nights get longer.
Dark clouds are scattered
Stars again fill the courtyard of heaven
The pearl on the forehead has disappeared
all because it’s long been buried in the barren hills, today ignorance prevails
Worldly affairs of the past dropping like withered flower petals . . . shattered
Yearning heart like so many
new buds . . .
Bird wings swirling in silent space
Spring flowers swagger for the butterflies
The wish-fulfilling tree in heaven accompanies the Master Craftsman of Uncanny Ability
Beyond the awe-inspiring sound a meteor shower cuts off
the road the god of night came in on
The Youth uses a gloomy expression to sculpt loneliness
A hundred birds carrying flowers come to cheer him up
Twilight the further shore
A young woman watching the sea
Under the silent starry sky singing a moonlight song
On the beach is an ancient sealed bottle
the bottle cap is suddenly opened
Instantaneous storm of emotion
caught in the trap of attachment.
There is an itinerant singer
Searching everywhere for a treasure map showing the way to a den of monsters
Someone fond of online games
His childhood face
Soon turning into a wrinkled old visage
The Gamer’s zeal, like fire chasing the wind
From the boundlessly vast net of illusion
slipping into a virtual world within a world
A sea of ​​tumbling waves
Bubbles turning into foam dancing in space
Sound of the tide, waves and billows converging
Gathering at the foot of the wind to send secret messages
Signaling birds this year nest on the treetops
since the typhoon won’t come
a woodpecker chisels a hole in a tree close to the ground
since there will be no heavy rain invasion
An old sacred tree towers high on the margins of the Milky Way
The dreamy Youth dissolute in the system of confused objects
Under the night sky the original dancers dance in a seven-star chain
Fisherman with No. 3 wind socks fitted on their poles
Quietly change them to No. 8 wind socks
The windsurfing Youth raises the original power sail of Indra’s net
Heading towards the distant center point of the galaxy
Reaching the center of the sea of stars
the boundless nucleus of the original game network
searching for a secret memory cache yet
Accidentally picking up an illusory childhood photo album
Still containing—
sights • sounds • smells • tastes • touches •
feelings • consciousness
Suddenly realizing the true situation of old mementos.
Birth of Autumn westerly wind takes up its solitary bow
Shooting the golden sky
The shadows and echoes of the past
The sounds and images of the future
combine and dissolve
Return to the heart turn thought
Thinking and recalling
The platform of contemplation and consideration
Still not seeing an old friend enter a dream
Not seeing thru, because of the promise of the past
Still honored. . . . . .

August 7–8, 2003

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Book 111 Mysterious Shadow on a Fragrant Path The World’s First Sunrise
— Luminous Purple Scroll of Crystalline Diamonds at 109.5° A Solitary Leaf on the World Sea of the Ten Directions

Same point, different view, because
dreamers are fond of folding
time and space into an alternative dimension
Not knowing that all phenomena
Manifest in accordance with the minds of sentient beings, in response to their capacity to know
experienced to whatever extent is dictated by the law of karma . . .
Seven nights waiting
A crescent moon flashes in the dark den of the Milky Way
The Hacker armed with the Kapila Incantation and a huge net of illusion
Forces his way into the seamless net
from then on there’s no escape, no rest
If so inspired
The Gamer spontaneously listens inwardly—
Seeking the sound waves turning out light waves of forty-two letters
Downloading a clean and pure repair program
inside the Brahma’s Net Sutra
For increasing the communications of the fish swimming in the net-sea.
New moon • Pisces
Rain Water Spring Equinox
The Youth raises the sun in his heart
Spontaneously knowing and seeing all
All the parameters in the sea of consciousness of all sentient beings . . .
Sunlight • Aries
Spring Equinox Grain Rain
The old east has a new island
Sand white as snow
Forming a silvery moonlight coast . . .
Crescent moon • Taurus
Grain Rain Lesser Full Grain
A fisherman lowers huge sails
Dodging the fierce waves
Hull no longer jolts and tosses . . .
Waning moon • Gemini
Lesser Full Grain Summer Solstice
Heavy rain in the dark night
Thunderbolts accompany lightning
Thousands of scenes seemingly in a chance encounter, turning into recollections . . .
Milky Way • Cancer
Summer Solstice Greater Heat
A tear next to the Little Girl’s pillow
Turns into a lake in a dream . . .
Waning moon • Leo
Greater Heat End of Heat
My true self long buried in a nook on the margins of the native place . . .
Full Moon • Virgo
End of Heat Autumnal Equinox
Another self is on an open-air stage dancing the mambo . . .
Blue Planet • Libra
Autumnal Equinox Frost Descends
In an ancient Arcadia all that remains
Is a lonely owl changing faces . . .
Gibbous moon • Scorpio
Frost Descends Lesser Snow
In Yuyuan there is a green lamp waiting day and night
For that state of mind of the owner who has never returned . . .
Waxing moon • Sagittarius
Lesser Snow Winter Solstice
A mysterious guest fond of playing hide and seek with e- . . .
Contemplating the world sea • Capricorn
Winter Solstice Greater Cold
An invisible man hides in a wonderland, draws the curtains and dreams . . .
Crescent Moon • Aquarius
Greater Cold Rain Water
Storing grass, lifting up ears and listening outside the window
To the true sound of the light snow beginning to fall in early winter. . .
Tonight a new passenger ship arrives at the ancient pier
The e-net of an extraordinary state has a mysterious door
Allowing endlessly chattering travelers to come and go
The Punter fond of rafting
sees not the clam pickers outside the net
The big white ox dreams of a jeweled golden banner
Appearing on the silvery summit of Mount Sumeru
The Shepherd Boy announces his arrival
The Shepherd Boy enters the city
The big white ox leaves the city
Question Where are you going?
Answer Wherever you are going!
Question When I entered the city, why did you leave?
And why do you want to go with me wherever I go?
Answer The houses and doors of two strangers
are separated by only six windows;
if the six senses are perfectly penetrating
then all boundaries and limitations are swept away . . . . . .
The night sky of the blue planet
Like Indra’s net embellished with stars
Not knowing that it originates in the micro-dense double helix galaxy
Showing its shadow from the other side of a celestial body. . . . . .
Bright moon inside a huge luminous mirror
Thinking conception perception memory omnipresent
Blue-green bamboo flowering but once in a lifetime of a hundred years
Like a salmon from its play-garden in the sea
Finding its way back to its freshwater home
To spawn
A long-cherished wish made in the vast realm of love.
East • Spring Equinox
The Master of the Wanhong Pavilion unrolls on the boundless horizon
The long scroll of the sunset
Forthwith rolled and put away by the god of night . . .
Southeast • Birth of Summer
Eye of perfect enlightenment Lesser Full Grain
The old man of twilight comes to Fisherman's Wharf to see the sunset
Because last night an old friend visited him in a dream
Leaving him sleepless all night
In childhood hiding away some affection, in the blink of an eye
fifty years have passed ...
South • Summer Solstice
He enters into the abode of nothingness joining—
All phenomena are dust
All sentient beings are defiled
Nadir • new does not exist in the past
does not exist in the future
original the enlightenment flowers of inherent nature
the buddha-seeds in the mind
person not prior to lighting a lamp
not after lighting a lamp . . .
Southwest • Birth of Autumn
Silent sea of sound watching over all sentient beings
The god of night nightly records the dreams of all sentient beings
Tangled strands of guzheng grass spread out below the trapeze of an old tree
One stem fond of wrapping around its trunk
a wisteria attached to a pine blooming with butterfly flowers
West • Autumnal Equinox
the arrow has already left the bowstring
An ancient scroll pilfered
A wild theme has torn up the dream image of the Drunken Guest Wallowing in the Mire . . .
Northwest • Birth of Winter
You enter the abode of limitless space discovering—
a subtle factor newly woven in the universe
North • Winter Solstice
I enter the abode of limitless consciousness observing
the clambering mind bound by defiling attachment
Zenith • in accordance with primordial material nature producing perception
from perception producing self-attachment
self-attachment producing the five types of sense objects
Henceforth, form, sound, smell, taste, and touch
appoint another self as master
Northeast • Birth of Spring
Someone enters the abode of neither perception nor non-perception tacit understanding—
Inherent nature of the mind sowing buddha-seeds and planting the flowers of awakening.
Missing thatch ox pen
metaphysical traveler
In search of the ox the Shepherd Boy wakes from a spring dream
palm-leaf annals
Discovery of the Footprints small black ox
on the margins of the Milky Way
Perceiving the ox proffering the whip of apology
like a genial wind or kindly words
Catching the ox grass rope attached to the nose
library in the sky
Taming the ox hearing a flute on an autumn morning
deep waves with a blue tint
Riding the ox home playing a subtle sound
sea of omniscience
Ox forgotten, man remains land surveyed with a golden cord
the story of time
Both ox and self transcended golden ax opens the sky
spinning fragrant stamens
Reaching the source big white ox
treasure chest of time
Return to society the Shepherd Boy a sheet of empty brightness
good views on shore
Again declaring on the sea of meaning the dragon king’s palace
Flower-adornment Song.
The big galaxies of the universe engulf the small galaxies
Future supernovae are still traveling in the earth’s dark core
Magical sap of a small flower
In the microscopic stamen-banner of a rose
Mysterious shadow on a fragrant path • the world's first sunrise
presently every day of every month of every year
Shadowless trees clouds hanging from the horizon
Light and sound at dusk
This dawn’s sound and color increased many times over
Autumn rain weaving dense winter clothing
Silent world
New snow of early winter re-carves last year’s snowfield
North wind knife slices thru the Traveler’s shirt
In the vast expanse of the sea in the moonlight
Floats up a silver wharf
There is a bodhisattva anxious to relieve the people of all misery
A boat with seven masts and 13 sails
In a tail wind becoming 99 . . . . . .
Again declaring dusty notions can’t help but worry
Waves again rising in the sound of autumn wind
Blowing thousands of sails, transporting boat after boat’s
Causes and effects
A fiercely flaming furnace is melting the snow
Waves of mist float in from a boundless world
The Little Girl next to the stove fears and loves • embracing both.
Typhoon in transit
Spindrift on the shore stacked a thousand feet high
The tree god inhales the sea foam
Burst of wet and sticky water
Still tainted with a salty taste . . . . . .
God of the southern mountain human face, dragon body
Disciple of a thousand buddhas dwelling on the sea of the blue pagoda
Golden sun sails • on the rise
Shutting out the dream of a night-traveling spirit
Straightaway causing that wanderer to come back to his senses
Responsive to light is the stem
Ever oriented towards moisture is the root
Indra’s net gathering
all the trees in the universe to provide shade for the people
A flower shines in the bright and intelligent
eyes of the Maiden
Moonlight gently touches someone’s eyebrows
Fingerprints quietly rotate the conditions of three lifetimes
Wondering whether or not the loved one passing thru life after life
since beginningless time is a substitute
Countless aeons
Who is that original truth wandering.
Truth—
Pure empty
Evident bright
Distinctive mark of truth pervasively shining
according with conditions
without changing
Eye of dusk, golden drum
suspended in space over a thousand red mountains
Forgetting—
Thoughts arise ignorance
Defiled state of mind dusty objects
Discrimination clambering
success
essential emptiness
Chaos enters the apertures
bright Milky Way spread with waves
Discrimination
Reminiscing
Clambering
Waves
Entangled
Empirical consciousness traveling in six-dimensional space enters into the dream
Self-attachment
Nescience
Vain imaginings
Continuity
Illumination
Ego consciousness, space of the seventh dimension, like a mirror-lamp
Store consciousness, space of the eighth dimension, containing the
six marks
Birth
Holding in store
Harmony
Perfumed change
Quiet
Ten mysterious doors in the space of the ninth dimension, the appropriation consciousness
Resident
Not stained
Undefiled
Thusness
Signless.
The ten-dimensional space of the one impartial Dharma realm
Scripture on the world sea of the ten directions multiplied N times
The minds of sentient beings contain the matrix of the Tathagata
The scriptures on the sea of consciousness and the sea of transformation spin into the primordial sea of aeons . . . . . .
In the world of sentient beings there falls a delicate rain
After the rain on the lake the Wanderer still seems to be weaving
Desiring a new idea
Again fixing attention
Yet already without any possibility, again asking someone
Coursing along a great river that never runs dry
Patrolling in the prophetic domain of knowing and not knowing
Accompanied by
You, me, and him
As well as another. . . . . .
Early spring a safflower
Dreams of bearing fruit
Autumn fallen leaves
Dream of new seeds entering the house
Luminous Purple Scroll of Crystalline Diamonds at 109.5°
A Solitary Leaf on the World Sea of the Ten Directions
Completed on August 14, 2003
The seventeenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar
The new moon rises up to the third heaven
Slight crescent beginning to turn. . . . . .

August 12–14, 200
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