Table of Contents

Preface Ode to the Zenith • Love Song of Poetry
Book 50 Story of the Sound of the Golden Drum Encamped on the Western Mountain ─ The music box factory of awe-inspiring sound
Book 51 Native Place • Proclamation of the Spicebush ─ Yuanyang Lake travelogue
Book 52 My Heart • Like a Pond in the Depths of Winter Discrimination / patrolling antiquity
Book 53 The Numinous Spear of Dhyana
Book 54 In the Center of a Titan’s Chest
Book 55 Light and Dust • Surreal Dream of the Multitude
Book 56 Riddle of the Buckwheat-shaped Amethyst ─ Puppet meets puppeteer
Book 57 The Awe-inspiring sound of the Dance of the Wind ─ Encounter between signs and appearances
Book 58 Time Palace of the Tripartite House of Childhood ─ Legend of the superjacent crescent moon
Book 59 Thirty-three Bits Transformed into an Increasing Application in Nine Lifetimes ─ The story of you, me, him, and them
Book 60 The Revolving Door of Inverse Space-time ─ Road, enter here

Preface Ode to the Zenith • Love Song of Poetry
Providing for our every need, the eternal spring of nature;
in search of the world’s most noble and august person ……
In the wee hours of the morning of November 23, 2003, Lesser Snow arrived. The sun rose at 6:15 and set at 5:07; the ecliptic longitude of the sun was 240 degrees; the chill of winter was in the air.

Today is November 24, the first day of the 11th month in the Chinese lunar calendar. This is the first day of the waxing moon, which appeared at 6:59 in the morning. During the Lesser Snow the sun gradually moves southwards until it reaches 23.5 degrees latitude on the Winter Solstice. During this period of dark and stormy weather farming families traditionally prepare red tortoise cakes and sweet dumplings for making offerings to heaven and earth. This is a way of praying for well-being and maintaining the community of life.
The esteemed human race resides in a dream-like world formed of earth, water, fire, wind, space, sight, and consciousness. The “master of the natural world” embellishes the planet by incarnating as trees, flowers, seas, sound, clouds, and light. The love song of poetry, that light of the world, is composed in the wondrous sea of sound consisting of the five tones of the pre-Tang pentatonic scale: gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu. The conductor’s baton of nature deftly directs the cyclic movements of the four seasons; the poet provides the prelude of the universe, transforming primal chaos into the two poles of heaven and earth. Poetry is at the heart of the human spirit; since time immemorial, with boundless zeal, it has been transmitting the pulse of humanity. The poet is the world’s most noble and august person.
The “new source person” is the true self, native to the spacious world of virtue and purity; numinous in nature, he belongs to the heart of the cosmos, and is thus able to convey to humanity the singular flavor (ekaika-rasa in Sanskrit) of the mysterious universe. Dedicating all his love and energy to humanity, he restores the original sound and flavor of life. This material world is built on merit; this world of sentient beings is the substance of life supporting the numinous spirit; the world of perfect enlightenment is built on the ocean of wisdom.
The poet uses the bright mind of purity to transcend matter and form; uses a half-smile to taste reality; uses insight born of tranquility to apprehend supreme truth and to minutely observe the ever-changing face of the universe. He uses pure affection to create an open space of the imagination, an artistic conception where sense and sensitivity intersect. Poets are essentially international in outlook. Poetry is a way of delving into the depths of life to vividly portray the deepest intimations of the human spirit.
As long as human beings have been boldly striding on the planet Earth, and rainforests have been mysteriously growing incrementally, poetry has been a benevolent force, the appearance of truth overflowing into a dream, transforming the 84,000 defilements into a bowl of savory ghee. Listen to the budding flowers; the clouds brushing against Spirit Mountain; the plume of the sun painting a rainbow on the distant firmament; the wish-fulfilling tree standing tall in heaven; endless varieties of seeds palpitating with life …… The Benevolent One rides the billowing waves back to the source, condenses the moonlight into a state of purity; wind, rain, lightning, and thunder regulate the climactic order; the four seasons turn the cogs of time.
We are the joyous bards of the universe, voices spiraling upwards like snow-white water streaming forth from an ancient fountain. The heavenly bodies are the eyes of all the gods; our poems are the elegant movement of life. It’s a blessing to have this opportunity to be together, to sow fragrant seeds, like pure-white clouds dancing in the indigo sky. Like the plant kingdom freely and happily thriving all over the planet, in the new century, at the time of the new moon, let us together light a thousand lamps, illuminate the whole planet, and create a world imbued with peace, joy, and prosperity.
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Book 50 Story of the Sound of the Golden Drum Encamped on the Western Mountain
─ The music box factory of awe-inspiring sound

Several swaying pistils, oscillating echoes of light and shadow
Birds fond of singing pursing the primordial power of the wind
Wings driving a slipstream, opening and closing
The Master Craftsman in a secret valley
fashioning the subtle sound of the universe, unfolding the melody of heaven and earth
An ancient maple pulled in over 3,000 li by a Pacific hurricane
An 81-year-old carpenter in a secluded workshop
Making a space-time treasure chest ─
Above, the world-sea dew collector, below, a rain visor
Romantic snow-like pointed pile of white
Sunshine circulating amongst the rafters
Unable to stop the ice from melting into water droplets cascading off the umbrella
At this time, from the outside world comes the sound of a drop of rain
intoxicated tones flow thru the wound-up spring matrix
A natural ruby mounted on a splendid lever
gears turning and stopping just like
a river with jeweled deva-thrones riding crested waves
a delicate sense of touch lightly contacting the waving water
supremely subtle ...
An old colorful lamp of lapis lazuli with ten thousand neon-like flower-flames
Six rollers on a wizardly shaft
playing 144 sounds on 24,000 needles
I saw a beautiful butterfly pupa
Flying towards the sky of liberty
Rising and falling suspended cloud gate folds up a rotating fog window
Celestial fingers press an upper button commencing
a repeating lovely dream consisting of Mozart
Beethoven, Webber, and Strauss
Color and light in riotous profusion
gears agitating loose-leaf air, slowly broadcasting ...
primordial savage charm
ancient drifter of space-time sets in motion the wings of a celestial butterfly
It’s walnut, laurel, old maple, ebony
Waves of sound inside, amplitude expanding to
hundreds of billions of micro-thin notes
Inlaid with glittering diamonds carved flower fairy
lacquered with twenty coatings, restoring the original beauty
A teenager uses the power of mindfulness to balance every topsy-turvy dream
A cute little girl hiding behind an old stone wall craning her neck
The Wanderer of the earth opening three hidden drawers looking
for the supreme master key which unlocks the ten mysterious gates of the universe
Inside a tiny jeweled music box,
repeating three or four different sensations
A never-ending minute continues in eternal space-time
Offering eighty-four thousand bright flowers of awakening in the Avatamsaka realm
Corresponding eighty-four thousand kinds of genetic worries and anxiety
A great mirror in the sky above the sea of dreams, following the light of the sun and stars
bright and dim at times resplendent
Sometimes appearing in the dark firmament like Indra’s glittering net.

Surrounding space encompassing innumerable worlds
music fairies fond of chasing games
Lofty light and color silent supernatural powers
Old theater receives a few actors in modern dance costumes
Hammering sound waves of unlimited extension
crossing
over
the horizon
straight to heaven
In a sunset like gold-red fireworks seeing
that future you
A pair of hands opens the door to the world of awe-inspiring sound
The door is opened, but the canary which has never been lost will not fly away
It accompanies you with its bright, sweet songs from sunrise to sunset
From spring to winter from ancient times up to today
From the palace of the ancient kings up to today’s ocean-seal of all things
Power • wondering who is keenest to be the master of time
Practice • white plum petal falls onto the silvery snow
a luminous gem hidden on the frozen coast of the native place
Mysterious ancient farm,
In the first watch of the night a lad chases fireflies everywhere
Middle watch villagers still in the valley dancing in celebration of the harvest
Last watch the Youth wakes up from his bluestone pillow
golden ax in hand, crosses over to plow
Most excellent • the people of Taoyuan fashion their mind power into pupae
sitting straight and tall in a stone hall for some time, then
like a golden eagle with silver wings, the mind
soars right thru Mara’s net and into the bright sky.
A white-haired old woodcutter alone in the mountains blowing a flute
The Wanderer searches for the true treasure of the phantom city
but on the shoals of the sea of consciousness spread with the sands of ignorance
runs aground dusk to dawn
Setting sun accompanies first rays of the morning sun daily red in red
Yet the Yogi goes about with a lantern in broad daylight searching for a bee hive
Digital image recounting vestiges of the past
Wheel of time rolling backwards to past love observing
myself in childhood.
Spider weaving webs in the pocket of the wind
Dead of winter, snow vehicles coming out in droves
Beautiful butterflies can resist turbulence by freely riding the wind
Outside the window silvery earth and white light illuminate a thousand autumns
The Traveler’s thoughts, following the wheel of time, perch in the realm of delusion
Asleep, unknowingly sleeping bag already covered with frost
On the wizened icy shore there is a virtual pond
Just repent and salvation is a hand
By virtue of that marvelous insight into karmic obstructions
Present awakening, in the eyes of some
still cannot compare with a refreshing smoothie
Flowers’ august demeanor it’s for attracting the bees and butterflies
Herbs’ growth it’s for the flocks of cattle and sheep
yet the hunting wolf is fond of running amok
A towering tree at the top of a waterfall is for sheltering the birds
Fruits hanging on branches at the source of the river
heaven’s gift to mankind
Every night the owl peeps at the restless earth spirit
The solitary Scion Drifter, bereft of
human sympathies
solo climb up the wondrous peak
waiting for a hibiscus tree to bloom
Dark clouds mask white clouds, instantly a bright sky turns dark
Secret and complex neural networks of the sensory organs
moved by an invisible current
Moving recollections, recollecting one another
Remembering past present future
Wrapped up, there is a garment which changes its color each season: red, white, blue, and green
Remembering you me him
Like being with the beloved one and enjoying a candlelight dinner
also hoping that his dear one will remain forever
Remembering home here other worlds
People in the world, in the great trichiliocosm
East, south, west, and north have a center
it’s in the middle of the circle
Pure mind of childhood under house arrest in the aggregate of consciousness
Night falls, tonight yet another big rain
Dragon flies touch down on the stream where the moon bathes
sweeping away the ferry man’s footsteps ...
On account of perfumed thoughts, my potential energy wanders into
all phenomena created by the mind.
Someone asks: "Why have you come to Mount Qilan?"
The child answers: "To take a deep breath."
Depths of winter several strains of thick fog
Who is it who obtains supernatural powers in deep concentration
Off in the distance an a cappella song, delighting the night sky
If the heart is seeking, dabbling in every mark
each page is full of vicissitudes of the past
Tears of parting all because
carelessness turns to lack of recognition
Under the hot sun bright colored fabric arrayed
Open-air recording studio,
birds flying in thru an invisible window
beasts rush out from a doorless vestibule
Primeval genes of the sea of consciousness sown in the store consciousness
for generations and aeons, hidden flame in the world of sentient beings
Initial password of life recombining in the ego-consciousness
Generation upon generation, distinctive mark of truth latent in the august world of wonderful light
Purity of heart dyed into a totem of attachment by the boundless dust of ignorance
Musical notes thickly scattered, who is it who sings off the register?
Index of awakening in the sunset weaving
story of the sound of the golden drum encamped on the western mountain
Behold! That stranger
come to this land of boundless twilight glow.
Night • sky draped in thunder and lightning
The silvery Youth bounding over snow drifts
A white fox bounds into a stunning ice cave
Crow butterfly fond of that vigorous old cypress
Complete meeting of minds, ancient swallows flying on trilobite fossils
Patterned thoughts, acute nervous system conveying sensory experience
into the subconscious for storage
Obsessive mind stuck in memories past
unable to let go of that old tripartite house
Moon in the cloudy sky, the floating watermark of the awe-inspiring sound
In a dream,
I often play in childhood cotton fields ......

December 14, 20, and 24, 2002
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Book 51 Native Place • Proclamation of the Spicebush
─ Yuanyang Lake travelogue

Yuanyang Lake
Tiny dense algae, fungi lithe and graceful
Symbiotically composing
a world under a delicate layer of snow
native ferns and emerald-green moss, throughout
a deep and secluded valley
Last watch of the night, mysterious wild rainforest
gives off a primal energy
in a dense corner listening to
The proclamation of the spicebush ─
Lichens, long become speckles
Persistent calyx, fulfilling a vow in the sorrow-free valley
waning moon waxing moon, both appearing on the first night of the lunar month
The full moon of December 19, 2002 5:15 in the morning
A super-bright flash of lightning
celestial drum discharges a thunderclap.
Snowy depths of winter, everyone still dreaming
But there presently wakes an ancient eccentric
Following the snowfall horizon again exceedingly brilliant
Just then a white butterfly flies past outside the window, making it seem as though
flurries are still in the sky
Afternoon thick fog crowds in from all directions
mountain mist quietly rises up from the trees striped with moss and lichen
A silky white gauze impenetrable to visual perception
Every speck of dust dissolved by the dense vaporous mists
purified unto effulgence
A patch of downy green carpetgrass allows itself to be trampled by visitors
Four thousand years reveling
in the beauty and loneliness of solitude
Spruces’ exposed ovules like milky quartz
Polypetalous flowers petals withering and falling in sequence ...
An everlasting dreamlike open-air drama
Colorful butterflies from spring fly into clustered wisteria flowers
Arriving at a limpid round water-mirror reflecting the winter sky
moving softly and quietly, I come to
a slough from four thousand years ago
Lush green color in riotous profusion
the silently effulgent
Yuanyang Lake.
Old and sacred it’s the
primordial wish-fulfilling tree
Banner-trees propping up the sky like the
miraculous medicinal tree fond of producing a wondrous tone
closing off the inroads of Mara
Red cypress trees standing tall three thousand years of ancient vintage
vying to tell an old story
Every afternoon, pervasive fog
shrouds that fairyland of Spirit Mountain
In days of old there came two tiny seeds of Japanese cypress
Today a pair of lofty old monks rapt in contemplation
Who is it, waiting for that sentient being life after life
leading
the simple and pure Youth thru the village of dreams
Behold! That fallen pine needle dancing for a moment in space
Hearing the sound of suffering, tonight the old sacred tree transmits the great Dharma ─
Silent bats fond of hearkening to discourses on the scriptures
yet the nightingale prefers frivolity, suddenly
"Dong ─ dong ─ dong" three crashes of the celestial drum
startling even the chief divinity of night wandering about!
That master painter, the old pine, fashions a circle with a flick of his sleeve
silvery screen of fog displaying all things
Solitary, over there praised as a hero
Lonely, on the other side called a brave man
"Fare thee well! Thither I go," repeats a partridge.
Setting orb of the sun, lighting up eighty-four thousand
glittering water droplets hanging on the moss
just like Indra’s net
Thanks to the old sacred tree for leading my purified vision
to a panoramic photo of Yuanyang Lake
Mist-moistened eyelashes, moist forehead
Amrta amrta sound of dew dripping … dropping
Bodhisattva mind can never satisfy
the mind of sentient beings ─ supplicating savage desire
In a clear sky, clouds appear and scurry
In the blink of an eye, rain fills the firmament
Celestial musicians constantly produce a wondrous tone
recounting inexhaustible intentions ......
Night black darkness, discerning not east, west, north, south
What never wavers is Spirit Mountain
What never arises or ceases is the precious land
What is ever pure are misty clouds and hazy vapors
What gives birth to the myriad things is the affectionate trunk of that old sacred tree.

“Vapor-sound waterfall” carved by the Master Craftsman ─
A magical rope of tempered silver, inlaid with tiny phantom gears
Waves interweaving on the summit of rising thought
Billows scattering in the ravine of initial ideas
Rhythmic gaseous veins infuse the numinous space of form and structure
Cross over the wobbly old suspension bridge to the Yuepo Pavilion
Affording a view of a canoe briskly cutting thru the waves
The eighty-four thousand flaming defilements are too heavy for the punter
multiple destined calamities on the way
To the unawakened, a single bubble can seem heavier than a mountain ...
origin, an enigma is still a perplexity
destination, an awakening is still a mass of fog
Azure cosmogenic sea, not the return of primordial chaos
Huge wave of stunning beauty, black hole of ignorance
lurking in the deep sea of consciousness
Clouds in the sky soft white
plums on the hill rippling white
Azure brook water bright white
twilight fog misty white
A single blessing joyfully clear, is
the glory glimmering inside the elegant wisdom treasury of the awakened one.
A treasure hunter leads 33 kindhearted ones
on a tour of Wuling, Cuifeng, Fushan,
Yuanyang Lake, Qilan Mountain, and the old sacred tree
Overlapping green peaks, repeatedly smiling at the silent moonlight
By the mighty power of a vow
sentient beings come to this world of Spirit Mountain
Yet even the power of concentration can’t bring samsara to rest ......
Standing on high, everything below disappears, for the fog has returned
Who is it who in the great round mirror of quiescence
can again convene a meeting of beauty
On the mountain snowfall sweeps over the fallen leaves
Several winter plums leisurely dance in the north wind.
One time the Youth had a dream while nesting inside a cozy tent
Today goes backpacking an annual adventure
on the eve of the Winter Solstice, welcoming the Year of the Lamb
Faith • Oh Wanderer, during your travels, no matter when or where
If you run into trouble just make a phone call home!
Purity • treading on the afterglow of sunset, returning
But in a moment of carelessness pierced by the shadowy impressions of vain imaginings!
Awakening • long resident on his homely mountain
freely unimpeded in every sort of supernatural power
Entering • one pair of shoulders have to bear the weight of 20 inverted ziggurats ▽
210 kinds of compassion and tolerance piled high
Returning • who is it who can pull up the weeds of ignorance covering the mountain
After sleepwalking for 400 million years the tactile sense has been implanted with neurotoxins
responsivity gradually distorted, spiritual luminosity quits the excellent native place
Aspiration why take a vow of silence
when the cicadas are still buzzing ......
The Yogi, thoughts like the raindrops hanging to the eaves, turning into a chain
tightly connected with meticulous care and flawless artistry
never thinking of the past, thoughts always running into the future
Bodhi child in the realm of the tiny ego
watching adults in strife
Entreating the benevolent gods to not abandon mankind
Quiescence from the formless realm on up, every realm has
fifty billion palaces ─
innumerable musical instruments suspended in the void, day and night
sounding all by themselves
Skillful means the pond at home is the most refreshing and delightful
countless thoughts of worldlings, incubating
eighty-four thousand buddha-seeds.
Taiping Mountain in the depths of winter
Composed and charming Japanese maples unable to hide their desolate beauty
below zero glaring white snow
rushing three-level waterfall hanging from a silvery crag ...
Pathway leading to secluded places of profound beauty, winding amongst
silvery-white peaks
Old pines in the mountains, wavering needles
large baskets filled with pure snow
Wandering cloud roaming all over the sky
A broad-tailed swallowtail butterfly lodging in sassafras branches
waiting to become a chrysalis and then a butterfly
Milky Way opens the skylight onto the firmament ─
Chief earth god puts on night-vision goggles to scan the ubiquitous mountain sprites
World-weaving net weaves a beautiful trap by night
trapping sentient beings roaming the domain of delusion
Illusory flame ignites green-blue waves
All the rushes swaying in the wind
Mountain forest more fog this morning
The native place Youth can’t find the way home
silkworms cozily rest in their cocoons
worms sleeping and waking inside pupae
atlas moths flailing around a seething fire
Innocent children, tears of emotion and sadness
falling on the pillow of dreams
An old friend with focused attention, like a rapid conversion lens
Now we know the self who returns today
is not the same self ......
Toy train rumbles by on the historic narrow-gauge railway
ancient plank road exotic plants all over
Sacred Daba massif off in the distance, imposing
Juniper and cypress extending from the summit
hidden in the mystery of a primeval forest.
Fushan, yellow pond lily, bog bulrush, water lily
shyly blooming in the cold air
Kawakami maple, Japanese maple, and Taiwan maple accompany Oliver maple
red, purple, orange, and yellow for each season
Several strains of late opening snow plums, surpassing the vibrant red blossoms of spring
On the guided tour, whose baby is yawning?
From the exhale I smell the aroma of 2003, the Year of the Lamb
It’s said that at Yuyuan
there is hidden a type of flower containing the origin of the universe
in the course of a single night it can transform into a thousand lovely sights
Hidden in the Dharma realm, this is ancient wisdom
All insects know how to use camouflage for self-defense
The form world has its bait
The mind of the desire world still on the ultimate hunt …
In the wilderness, an old pavilion seated at the center of the moon
Colorful banners appear on the silvery screen
Sunrise sunset
green forest covered with a golden veil
Moss covered creeks, ravines, and cliffs glittering points of light
last night’s dew condensed into frost
Footsteps of the clouds, passing thru the window of the fog
On the way, greeted by a flock of singing yellow wagtails
The celestial light in the ravine exceptionally bright.
Sea of clouds crowding flying mist, obscuring the ethereal Cuifeng Lake
Biefeng damp and cold, snow falling on Nine-fall Slope
On the mountain, an altitude marker next to a big tree indicating 1,285
Pink winter plums fond of welcoming the snow
Misty silvergrass fond of swaying in the clouds
A flock of dream-like white cranes, fond of shuttling about
in the virtual space between the snowy ground and cloudy sky
Under the starry sky a corner of the night ─
Ziying and Yingxingbu stroll along the bank of the Milky Way
River and lake, once mountainous islands floating out from a primeval glacier
Seven schools of Formosan landlocked salmon pass by in the distance
entering deeply into the sea of dreams
Permeable shale plates surround the lake ensuring that
the waters of Cuifeng never overflow
Nimble moonlight illuminates pure-white frost
Behold! under that glimmering ginkgo tree
a fine and dense network
Spread over boundless space ......

December 28–29, 2002

NOTE:
● Yuanyang Lake, or “Lake of the Mandarin Ducks,” is located high in the central mountains of northern Taiwan, within the Magao (Atayal for “spicebush”) conservation area. It’s been there for about 4,000 years.
● Miraculous medicinal tree: a sacred tree in India famed for its ability to ward off evil forces.
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Book 52 My Heart • Like a Pond in the Depths of Winter

Discrimination / patrolling antiquity
An old wreck covered with beautiful coral
The amusement park of the fish
A three-hundred-year-old sunken warship
Now the palace of the dragon king at the bottom of the sea guarded by shrimp and crabs
The mysterious diamond-like gene of the Tathagata
Solid and sharp unbreakable
The bodhisattva uses the hands of compassion
To comfort every single wounded soul
Autumn waters blue and green, red and purple fallen leaves
A moment of time encamped in eternal space
Enchanting images arising and ceasing fly off with a white crane
return chasing swallows ─
Within the eternal silent light there are no realms with material form
Plankton drifting on the gently undulating ocean waves
There is a primordial conch of the great Dharma, ensconced in the boundless firmament, sounding
Self-awareness propels the silent power of samadhi
out from the chaotic world of confusion.
Clambering / waves
Endowed with the wisdom of nature, the old sacred tree changes its position
in order to meet the moonlight
The Youth’s innocent temperament weaves vines into a novel bed
suspended between two trees for a nap
Cotton buds bursting open all over the fields
Childhood dream still hovering in the ears ...
Nautilus 400 million years old still
floating up to the surface of the sea to search for food in the moonlight
From the past to now, a hermit crab always in search of a new shell
The lonely footsteps of the Traveler gradually
fading out from a distant land
Farming in the countryside, the Youth hugs the dawn and goes out the door
returning home draped in the sunset
ten thousand kinds of flowers dormant on Spirit Mountain
waiting for the thunder to signal the Waking of Insects, gushing out from the ground
There is an arrow of nothingness, out of the valley of ignorance
Taking aim at the restless minds of sentient beings
You, me, him heart, mind, consciousness
all times all matters all places
Ancient compass and nautical maps in hand, the Treasure Seeker heads towards a southern island.
Entangling / my heart
Bodhisattvas appear and roam about in the world
as sympathetic response to the causes and conditions of past lives
But all their present actions are undertaken merely for others to see
Old nests on the mud flats, several stunning roses in full bloom
Limpid mountain lake throughout
an ambrosial stamen world
My heart like a pond in the depths of winter
icing over a few scattered dry branches
This spring the peach-blossom forest gate
sealed off by the snow of Greater Cold
Canyon curved like a bow flute singing a welcoming song to the north wind
A boy asks: "Who weaved those bright clothes of the spring butterflies?"
Amidst the fog, there are wonderful flowers
blooming on a blue cliff shrouded in multicolored mist

Ignorance / delusion
Whence fear whence terror whence fright
Sentient beings originally sporting in their own garden
The wandering Scion Prince seeks a safe dwelling
Illusory realm just like
a childhood dreamscape
A single bubble flies up on a vast expanse of water
wishing to glimpse the will of heaven ─
Hanging cliff, at each twilight swallowing clouds and blowing out fog
One hundred percent keen senses
turn spiritual luminosity into a mass of mystery
Here are the conditions, crooked tree branches hold a child's hand and push the swing
Here the road is entered, exotic flowers and fruits always thrive on precipitous crags
Walking on a mountain trail ─
rash feet scare a spirited bird
Winter quietly tiptoes to the golden Pacific coast
mind of the past again passes by
innumerable aeons of left over sensory impressions
Mind of the present thoughts not dwelling in the distinctive mark of reality
dependent on phenomena, attached to objects
emptiness contains the nine hundred kinds of defilements now scurrying about
Mind of the future carving memories on a river skiff
Following them, fitfully sleeping on board
keen on entering the dream realm of neither perception nor non-perception ...
There is a pavilion in the middle of the stream inside
wisteria flowers rest in the fog
......
Continuation / illumination
Schemes as countless as the sands of the Ganges
Thoughts like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, fleeting
Self-consciousness like old vine roots penetrating deep into the earth
Beginningless ignorance and madness
Hangover in hot pursuit of illusory sights and sounds
Naked senses rush into a thicket of a million flowers
unable to restrain that stirring of the mind
Wondrous peak with another path
A boy asks a girl: "Why is love painful?"
A canary under the eaves answers: "Affection runs deep!"
Inner palace of the heart, a pure and sorrowless city god
Guard the gates of the six senses light up
the eternal lamp of pure vision
Brand new world free of fear
Thoughts free of all tribulation
From today onwards, no longer sullied by the dust of confusion.
Birth / storage
Forest of wavering banners distinct colors, each in their own place
Wind-blade shears off numerous dead branches
Parasol tree in hibernation from late autumn to mid-winter
The Youth one hundred percent dedicated; one hundred percent sincere
Using the moonlight to stitch moon onto a flowery branch
Mysterious mind-seal of the Tathagata,
bestowed on those devoted to cultivation
Secluded wilderness
Signs of human habitation within clusters of silvergrass and reeds
A flock of ducks flies in from afar to make a thorough inquiry
Eluanbi Lighthouse at Hengchun flashing in the dark night
guiding the fishermen back to port
Deep dark ravine
Seemingly storing traces of an ancient sunset
Seductive colors appear in the eye-wall
Tonight, a general mobilization on the sea of dreams of each and every delusion.
hirling wind sweeps them off the ground
A group of migratory birds flies past the main gate
wondering where they are going
Slanting rain washes clean the remaining lotuses in the pond
The Youth places an ear on a sturdy ashen trunk
attentively listening to the deep breathing of an old sacred tree
Riverbank ─
Old father carrying young daughter briskly on their way
Boy on the way home stepping on the colorful cloak of dusk, singing a mountain song
Leaf, holds a pan for collecting dew
Flower, turning into a parasol
Wanggong oyster field at Zifangyuan
A bunch of naughty children tap dancing
A dream puts up in the sea of omniscience
Truth losing duplicated images in the sea of illusion
Three bamboos with nine segments in the sky-opening window revived.
Quiescence / signlessness
Strange boulders arrayed on the edge of a bluff
Ten thousand exquisite flowers planted on a cold mountain
Mysterious eagle hiding on a summit
Mythical snake lurking in a ravine
Colorful clouds following the twilight glow dropping behind the ridge
Several fragmented cloud petals condense on the red horizon
Repeating dreams multiple exposures
becoming the primal bright essence of consciousness which doesn’t differentiate between real and unreal
The Youth’s depth of field thoroughly penetrating the cycle of stories ─
only the transparency of the abstruse dance of the chief earth god
Can set in motion the supremely benevolent bodhicitta
Open the ten mysterious doors leading to the wondrous wisdom of the light of eternal silence
Off in the distance a little hilltop village standing all alone
Lonesome residents like the gatekeepers of a border town on the outskirts of heaven
Inside the wide-angle lens a bird holding a flower in its beak slides down green moss
now knowing that there is a heaven beyond heaven, a man beyond men
Within a hierarchy butterflies in colorful dance costumes
shuttling along in a sea of purple-red flowers.
Thusness / purity
East coast as placid as a mirror then comes a wind
Low roar of grade-7 waves shaking the ten directions
startling east south west north center
Five sense organs, instantly freeze-dried by the five sense objects
That modicum of spiritual luminosity, suddenly sealed in a mind-wave of ice
Unshakable true enlightenment, quietly
ensconced in the Dharma realm
Polarities of heaven and earth, positive and negative
Maglev train floating on the collective karma amidst individual karma
track of mutual attraction, carrying people on their way
The Visitor collides with an illusory souvenir photo in a dream
Waking fast asleep in childhood memories
scouting out the child-like mind of the native place
Enchanting sights and sounds agitate the optical fibers of the senses
Kneading the numinous center into sticky mud pies
He who can conquer the dispenser of dreams in the palace of Mara
receives the protruberance of wisdom as a reward
It’s said that in a secret place deep below a cremation stupa
Can be seen a mystical primordial candle
shining brilliantly in the limitless galaxy.
Untainted / immutable
Daylight is gone, leaving no shadow
Moonlight comes, shadows again drop anchor
Biefeng a great resting stalactite, the throne where all the gods
receive the recommendations of Mother Earth
lapel of the clouds lightly
brushes the sky-borne seven-stringed qin
Blue cliff with a mysterious wind tunnel
emitting refreshing strains of a flute
Golden Sunset scattered in the window of dreams
Rosy clouds just before sunset sent into hiding by the bats of night
gone!
Familiar sound and image, familiar face
Parting rhyme, cold melancholy
Not the overture of
“Spring Blossoms on a Moonlit River”
it’s the “Silvery Winter of the North Country under Snow”
Still waving those old-style sleeves
dancing in a gallant and stately manner
Leaping winds and strings instantly pull up a section of bows
Frigid sound of the pipa … drops into the flute array
dancing celestials in an eternal curtain call
Ten fingers pulsating on seven strings
each tone shaking wondrous peaks
Three movements repeated
bosom friend never again composing
Not the sadness of departure
But rather due to the sunset ever patrolling the horizon
A five-year-old girl on her birthday
secretly places four wishes into her heart
Never telling anyone ......

December 29–30, 2002
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Book 53 The Numinous Spear of Dhyana

He who would know
How the mind of a sentient being steals into the dark womb-palace
Then let him investigate the pulse of the universe
The dark matter of ignorance commands the energy of every type of fear
The taciturn Visitor shrinks into the corner of flowing time
The Wanderer loses his ancient compass
Passing thru countless crossroads, losing his sense of direction
The habitually lonely Traveler, lifts up a candle
shines it on a dimly lit street
The Scion Prince still fast asleep in
the hub of the aggregate of consciousness.
On the central peak of the Dharma realm, there is a celestial wish-fulfilling tree
It’s flowery branches laden with the vows of ordinary people in former times
Palm-leaf scriptures, each page restoring the supremely profound mission of the bodhisattva
courageously shouldering the debts of all sentient beings
On Biefeng there is a golden-haired lion king
Zealously guarding the tracks left by a snow hare darting across a vast expanse of snow
Scarecrows in the countryside, frightening passers-by at night
On an adjacent peak a multicolored condor soars above the clouds
coming and going without a trace ......
Last night there was a 17-year-old girl weeping because of loneliness
tears of grief turning into an azure-blue lake
Excellent high peak holding
A secret image of the heart-palace of an eternally circulating cluster of galaxies
In the wilderness a zebra barges into a golden field of myoga ginger
Just then I visualize ─
myself as a child walking on the other end of the zebra crossing.
Thought pervades the great trichiliocosm
The Treasure Seeker says to the tired explorers:
"Pack your bags and get ready to go home!"
Cold north country in winter
A boundless silvery world time of Greater Cold
White fluttering snowflakes freeze over the misty sunlight
In the memory repository of the store consciousness
the pervasive weeds of ignorance spread over the forget-me-nots
Summoned by the Kapila Incantation, a newborn baby steps out the door
Everyone has a bright star on the forehead
Although normally eclipsed by fog it’s still
endowed with eternal brightness.
Mind-made Dharma realm
Water buffalo plows field, seed scattered
in staggered rows bordered by tightly interwoven ridges and channels
Wise old fisherman turning a hundred sails
piloting an irreversible sailing ship against the wind
Early morning dream of December 3, 2002
The sole access road to the native place
From out of nowhere there comes
a phantom spider web, huge, colorful, and super sticky
blocking the road ─
The Wanderer on the way home, anxiously waiting
Multitudes on the way to the native place stretching out on the long road
Suddenly, from one side
there dashes out a person eager to get out
covered head to foot with a sticky substance
a small hole opens in the web, and instantly closes up
Web-mesh continually giving off a cold colorful light
Then on one side there appears a hoary-headed grandmother
holding a pair of golden scissors
slowly cutting thru the thick cobweb
Allowing all the sentient beings to unobstructedly continue on their way back to the native place.
Freely wind blows, banners move; banners wave, wind moves
thought arises, mind moves; mind stirs, thoughts move
In no-thought there are causes and conditions
In no-memory there is a passcode
In non-attachment there is an abstruse secret
Silence focuses in a blank space
Neither-arising-nor-ceasing leaks information in a fresh green
Abundance is a bumper fruit harvest at the height of summer
Able to produce all things ─
Water veins at the center of the sea of consciousness rush in all directions
Peals of thunder and blasts of wind inside the hempen sack of heaven and earth
together producing Do Re Me Fa So La Ti
recombining into Ti La So Fa Me Re Do
Conductor’s hand draws a circle and a hook, recombining and recombining
Strings of notes rising and falling
forming and settling without rest
Chord • now common within common, now uncommon within common
Solo • now common within uncommon, now uncommon within uncommon
Symphony • powerful winds of consciousness, grass dares not bluster
golden eagle hovering over a nest suspended on a crag
spacious mountains fog dressed in a transparent gauze
obscuring their multiple hues of light and shadow
A farewell song
An ancient inn of three thousand years ago even today
there is the old pavilion where lovers said farewell.
With form as cause, consciousness changes
A single expression surpasses the summit of the cosmic mountain
A single smile opens the door of the heart vacuous for a hundred generations
there is a mysterious latent energy moving
patrolling the palace of the ancient kings
past events already become enigmas
Dawn writing on translucent stained glass
Dusk casting off the colorful drapery of heaven and earth
Hometown news faxed nightly from the other end of a dream
Childlike mind of childhood imprisoned in the kingdom of fairy tales
Constantly entreating the moonlight to convey a message to the Scion Prince
A mighty force suddenly shifts from point A to point B.
Same point, different view
The Master of the Pavilion takes a dead leaf as a piece of gold and gives it to the Visitor
But the Visitor discards it and picks up a stone instead
The traveling Yogi picks up a dead leaf, discovering
on the back a genuine scripture
A master painter in a bright spot haphazardly splashing on colors
Clear blue skies suddenly turn into a dark expanse of imposing clouds
The Great Caravan Leader of Supreme Knowledge leads a company of traveling merchants, along the way searching
for a runaway child
Strange desert wilderness, the solitary Wanderer
tonight ─ inviting the silence to come and hang out
Pure and defiled universal compassion of the bodhisattva mind
The great merciful one can relieve the suffering of all sentient beings
By virtue of awakening, the boundary between form and formless no longer exists
sensing winter, wild geese fly south
attuned to the pulse of heaven and earth, elephants relocate
If there is enlightenment, how can knowledge and consciousness make false distinctions?
a condor soars up on the air current
a golden toad squats in the deep valley below Spirit Mountain
Circumstantial and direct dreamer painting a lattice in thin air
virtual core, the edge of delusion
Sunflower fine-adjusting focus from
the Heaven of Radiant Sound transmitting an array of crystallite hues
The Traveler camps under the night sky
Everything fully illuminated by the moon above
Off in the distance, a solitary boat adrift in the cold waters ...
When the master of the natural world is in charge, the world of sentient beings forthwith becomes his vassal state.
Buddha-realms harmonious and complete
When truth doesn’t abide in any location whatsoever
That is the end of materiality, samsara, fear, and anxiety
Perverted mind of the past, meets the future in reverse
backsliding into the future
Innumerable aeons like an hourglass filled with grains of crystallite
Eternal light left behind, brightly moving in the center of the firmament
but as it’s said by one trying to patch up a lie ─
it’s necessary to hold a banquet satisfactory to all
Boundless Dharma-realm
Boy's mouth happily curved upwards
Self-witnessing aspect of the mental consciousness, happy memories of the past
Re-witnessing aspect in the sea of the mind, within wonderfully clear glistening waves
anxious about that magical immovable natural samadhi
Tactile senses, take the two aspects of subjective and objective
and divide them into two realms of host and guest
The Youth paddles past the remaining snow on the riverbank
fog, besieged from all directions
A cluster from the lush forest penetrates
all kinds of moss inlaid on a mottled crag
Round Buddha-halo observes the fog but falls into an unknown point deep in the clouds
Bubbles floating on the great ocean, stopping for a moment in empty space
A rainbow still visible in the sunlight restoring
incomparable luminosity
White ice palace of winter turns into the limpid pond of spring
The authentic palace of the ancient kings, that townhouse
In Greater Cold a group of old friends gather around the charcoal stove
Fragrance of Zhaozhou tea
Making an end of the disputes and delusion of the Saha world.
Dharma realm soaring
scorched sprouts, desiccating sun
remaining flowers, sealed up under the heavy snow
Pure and simple sensory ability, dyed in the complex colors of the world
This is frightful fearsome startling
Clear mind, locked up by every delusion
Power of the mind, empty, silent, and pure, detained in the vast zone of ​​the five aggregates
Train of time and space carrying all kinds forms
as well as the thinker roving in a dream.
Thoroughly observing the world-sea
North wind thundering in the north sea
Gold-embroidered robe falls into a world of silvery white
A golden eagle with five claws dances at minus 30° Celsius
Deep cave someone warming up with a charcoal fire
Drops of dew from melting ice pillars drip between the Wanderer’s eyebrows
A chill penetrates eighty-four thousand pores
Startled awake ─ the road back to the native place is already frozen over!
Numbers unspeakably large
The Little Girl sticks out her tongue at fundamental ignorance and says:
"I don’t even know you!
So why do you love to make so much trouble?"
In the ten-dimensional space of the one impartial Dharma-realm
When flowers wilt, it’s the soil that’s silent
When branches fall, the tree spirits grieve not
The mark of reality is only found in the same time as “thus”
in the same time as “-ness,” then subtlety appears
The sacred scripture of the world-sea of the ten directions, sound of rapid breathing
indicates that the world of sensory experience is about to fall into disorder ...
In the domain of delusions desires conspire against the tactile sense
Lust gives full play to deceptive machinations embezzling
all the fruits on the gem-trees in the phantom city
The Master Craftsman fashions wax plums secretly moving on the margins of the Milky Way
bursting with the power of samatha
manifesting the vanguard of samadhi
A primordial ice field gradually flows out of an ice cave
The numinous spear of dhyana, from beyond the awe-inspiring sound
flies in ─ guarding the mind of compassion.

December 31, 2002; January 1, 2003
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Book 54 In the Center of a Titan’s Chest

Open wide the ancestral gate ─
A baby looking in the mirror with a satisfied smile
Child says to adult:
"Let each child have a space for free play."
It’s said that in this world there is a rare type of bird of paradise
that always remains hidden in the dense forest
The Little Girl says to the flying butterflies:
"Please do not trouble me again ......"
The Urchin sings while standing on the zebra crossing under a traffic light
The Youth goes astray in an unfamiliar area bereft of road signs
In the mountains an old lady walks alone on a distant old street
listening to an old-fashioned shop window telling all the fairy tales of the past century
Who is it who can conceal the essence, so that it has no means of expression
Great compassion is the initial vow of the bodhisattva
Lightning flashes in a minefield
Rain falling on the pitch-black earth
The Wanderer curls up in a roofless pavilion and falls asleep
The Visitor asks the Traveler: "Where do you want to go today?"
The Traveler says: "The only way home is straight ahead!"
Provisionally established in the correct way appearing in response to conditions
Reclusive old man in a cavern below an escarpment on the Shiretoko Peninsula
lighting an eternal sacred candle
Sliding down a glacier onto a river of snow following the flow illuminating
late at night the Loafer yet to return home, bestowing freedom from fear
Silvery mountain chain, undulating
Misty moonlight attached to a virtual frozen lake
Native Youths, yogic spiritual dance
using meditation to filter out delusions
All things born of the same original breath
a hundred apertures giving entry to the wind …
White clouds fond of emerging from the cuffs of heaven and earth
A mirror hanging high in the vault of heaven
Majestic and myriad phenomena appear in the water-sky mirror in the middle of the sea
Resplendent colored light revolving
Enigmas past and present
wavering in a pair of intoxicated feet
Wall of ice a freezing wind-knife slices deep
Desire poachers,
Destroying the rustic fairy tale of the native place.
The Yogi sends his mind to the realm of unruffled emotion
A river with a tributary leading to a secret realm
Stone wall with exotic flowers growing in the cracks
An old man laments: "Look! The days are flying by ─"
The old year has passed, the new year has begun
Wondering whether the bodhisattva mind advances its position in the scheme of heaven and earth
Wooden chalet, snow piled up to the doorsill
The Wanderer’s footprints frozen in a boundless expanse of ice.
Many a dead-end in the course of searching for a secluded place of natural beauty
finding the way back, still a worthwhile trip
Rays of the rising sun graze the belly of a child fond of sleep
Moonlight polishes the cheeks of late-night travelers
Five hundred years ago, an old house next door
Every winter they sell a cow to buy ten quilts for distribution to cold travelers
Cosmic shockwave with moonlight as its medium
transmitted thru the peripheral nerves of the fingertips
That sleepaholic, vigorously weaving a web in a the night
Capturing a beautiful romantic host.
In the mirror of the heart, there appear images a thousand li distant
Craving extending huge magical claws
hunting for all the treasures in the material world
Main memory circuit in the hub of the mind
reproducing the marvelous tales from children's picture books
Genetic sequences transmitted from one generation to the next, ignorance colored with 23 types of desire
Using the positioning clues provided by the magnetic field of the primeval sea of consciousness,
to find the way home
In the flow of time and space there is a shifting goal
Gone beyond appearances, the Urchin freely jumps in jumps out
The Great Caravan Leader of Supreme Knowledge lodges on the crest of a wave in Biefeng
rebuilding arcadia
Just so subtlety exists.
If the unconditioned is real, then how can there be any differentiation?
In the center of a titan’s chest there is a flame sending up billowing heat waves
Condensing water vapor into ten million small raindrops falling into the rivers and steams
Innumerable supernovas suspended in the darkness of the great void
piled up … a phantom island floats up in the Traveler’s sea of dreams
Everyone’s self moves their feet, eager to climb the fifty-two steps
a different view at each level
Mysterious restricted area, from dawn to dusk
white light thunder above the clouds
Impasse of confusion, from dusk to the rosy clouds of dawn
gears of time rolling out the mysterious movements of the numinous pivot.
Being intrinsically different, how can habits become similar?
A fool uses thirty million glass bulbs
to densely weave Indra’s net
Standing on the summit of a marvelous peak, I gaze upon an inconceivably vast celestial void
Suddenly an invisible door opens
images and signs, real and illusory
Who is it who can differentiate between real and unreal in a dream?
A phantom watershed, delusions drifting in the shallows
In front and behind, left and right, above and below
Who is it who spread out this entangling spider web
netting the butterflies filling the sky?
Bird cage freely expanding and contracting
trapping each you • me • him
locking each essence • characteristic • function
Moon following the will of heaven appears in a thousand rivers
Feet on the path trampling the blustery snow
In the subconscious there is a hidden a high-powered periscope
Using sensory perception
to operate that auto-focus digital lens photographing
every type of phenomena, like dew, lightning, a dream, an illusion, a bubble.
Who is it who has tied the six sense organs into knots
presently all day harassing sense objects
A vast expanse of sea
A burst of snow and ice
Westerly wind, a single shoulder supporting ten million baskets of leaves
North wind blows out of the closet all of last year’s
hats, scarves, gloves, cloaks
not to mention that thick cape woven by grandma
Concentration ─ wind moves not, leaves move not
Water of a thousand rivers flows not
Pulse wave in the light of eternal quiescence flows not
It’s intoxication! taking the lighthouse on the promontory as the setting sun
taking the streetlights as the moon.
Boundless ocean, the Youth sets sail
Master Sarvajna gives him a wise yi bird
Surrounding snow and ice embroider the lake into a huge silvery raft
Clouds as big as mountains suspended in space, brilliant white covering depressing gray
On Biefeng, in a precipitous secret place
Tears flowing from the maiden Shutuo’s lovely eyes
Transform into five glittering diamonds attached to
the numinous branches of the miraculous medicinal tree, never to fall off.
Disparagement rocks the mind vain imaginings
go in circles beyond the dream realm
Piles of thoughts in waves of passion
standing on top of a flood peak, pounding out billowing adventitious defilements
Numinous space of tranquility, wind blows
flag waves, mind moves
emotion in motion …… cascades of tears
rushing down the rugged pathway
Sunset, quietly going down the mountain
on the way lighting up the silver candle of the fifth watch.
It’s moving, it’s still complicated and puzzling
Ancient Monastery hanging from a mysterious cliff
Green blood surging thru the veins a one-word mantra
common to the southern islands
Fairy flashing a blue light shining flight
drift-ice in a fantasy sea
Magical night rolls out its mystical power
Making the Wanderer homesick, the Traveler anxious
Agitating the Visitor
trapping the Vagrant’s footsteps in lonely solitude.
Who is the lead singer of the homecoming song?
Inside the window grandfather holding granddaughter up to see the falling snow
The flower-planting Youth wearing a cloak not as good as winter plums at keeping out the cold
Silvery white light blocks the exit of the north wind
Stars of varying brightness glittering above the snow-covered hut
Day and night, coming and going like bursts of thunder and lightning
The Master of the Wanhong Pavilion muttering singing
on the shore of the Greater Cold listening to the waves
contemplating that daily sight and sound …
Who is it who tramples on primeval green beryl
then places it in his own cabinet?
Why turn a blind eye to desire running wild quietly
sneaking into another place to make off with mindfulness as pure as a young girl
In the Flower-adornment realm
A blade of grass and a drop of dew, a flower and a book
Natural world and sentient world
since time immemorial fond of international dance collaborations.
Listen! Every thought manifesting in the present
stored up at the intangible threshold of the cave of ignorance
Conversant with the past the Youth breaths fog onto the cold clean windowpane
writing out his lover's name,
today the Wanderer again in the bustling city
leaving behind a white bag with nothing inside …
Guestroom in the annex with an in-wall fireplace burning bright
The Painter paints an overcoat to keep out the cold north wind
Positive factor, I use the great self to swallow my innumerable small selves
Negative factor, presently
innumerable small selves nibble away at the great self
The Master of the Baihua Pavilion reaches out and extinguishes the flame of the five aggregates
A bodhisattva courses to the limits of the sentient world
only to be knocked for a somersault by some ruffian
Within the quiescence of the ocean-seal samadhi, who is it who presses the invisible shutter
Shooting each and every sign in the world, 360°?
Profound attainment boundless and vast
Transcending emotion listening closely, naught do I hear
Transcending views clear and joyful mood
Thoughts struck by a wondrously subtle sound spectrum
In a note, the basic elements of the cosmic parent
Different fingerprints, exhibit different moonlight
The ten million meteors of the lion throne rush off beyond the awe-inspiring sound
The Master Craftsman commands
▽ the innate childlike mind to ride the swirling water of supreme goodness
Away from the △ heavy inertia of the land of the seven treasures.

January 3–4, 2003

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Book 55 Light and Dust • Surreal Dream of the Multitude

All things spin back into the bright mirror big and round
The ground of seven gems supports a hero’s solo ascent
Literary grace like a mountainous white cloud, born of the wisdom of equality
Water of supreme goodness swirling in the azure blue suspending a golden drum on the Autumnal Equinox
Passenger of ignorance drifting in the wasteland of vain imaginings
Determined one following an ancient path
Touring the phantom city of the Treasure Seeker
Billowing waves … awakened one of excellent observation
freely pilots the irreversible sailing ship
Wild-natured ignorance dwelling on the sea of primal dreams
Stubborn fools yet say ─
savagery is simple spontaneity
See those tender shoots, succulent seedlings
Hearing the song of the ancient farming village, trying to learn it
Scarcely knowing that all that’s needed is to use the power of the original vow to respond to all things
to accomplish everything and cultivate wisdom
Closely observe the meeting of silver and white
in this winter’s garden of endemic species.
It’s said that the last big snow falls the day before Birth of Spring
A guest enters
an old friend from afar invested in self-knowledge
Someone at the door, waiting to go home alone
the Wanderer who once posed as the host amongst guests far from home
Presently wondering why buds and seedlings break thru the soil on Waking of Insects.
The Master Craftsman of Uncanny Ability instantly lights up the torch of wisdom
Eradicating all pernicious seeds
In charge, one time the host amongst hosts illuminated the ten directions
The Yogi uses the power of samadhi
to instantly roll up the innumerable destabilizing defilements
Going out the door, how to find
that non-perplexed Visitor?
Peak accumulating snow throughout the year
Tributary of ancient streams today’s
never flowing glacier
Impetuous affection bursts out from a cliff of ice
Fog-wet grasslands, a lighthouse standing tall on the misty cape
In the night sky a thousand silent candles flicker in the Milky Way
The Shepherd Boy often outdoors, watching cattle in the wilderness
wanting to go, not going wanting to stay, not staying
Moonlight is the gel connecting the heart and the gods
Verdant river valley originating in the snowmelt gurgling down from ancient icy peaks
Blazing fire • mind, thought, and cognition
A solitary boat freely drifts about in a vast cold cave
The Master of the Pavilion holds up a lantern to guide the lost Visitor
A proprietor lights a fire to boil water
waiting for the Traveler to arrive late at night …
Sky beyond the sky liminal world, each mote of dust emitting a faint light
Wilderness hamlet every day something new is born
Lake, a frozen lotus bearing a minute seed.
Invitation ↓ New Year's party 7:00–8:00
New Year's Eve, January 31, 2003 good □ bad □
Cover: New Year's Party
Happy New Year • Good luck and happiness to you
△ Eating candy, 5 minutes △ Scrapbook viewing, 20 minutes
△ Rest, 10 minutes (singing) △ Dancing 10 minutes
△ Distributing red envelopes, 10 minutes △ Hosts: Shen Yi and Yang Xinyu
Back cover: draw a cute little sheep Thank you.
record of two little girls’ New Year's party
Fruit ripening containing eight princes who don’t abide in their essential nature
Sudden thunderbolt in a moment
a flint-stone flash of lightning manifest boundless light
Wonderful idea at a balmy graduation banquet
Old squirrel on an old pine tree
nibbling here and there wanting to stay, not staying
A piece of old pine bark swirling in the wind ......
Pushing open, pushing open who is it who sees self in terms of form, seeks self in terms of sound
Singing folk songs with traditional percussion instruments in an ancient village, nary a lonely countenance in sight
It’s the infinite joy of the surreal dream of the multitude
All appearances are false
Penetrate appearances, awaken the heart
Then it’s possible to enter into the loop equation of the wake and sleep of sentient beings
opening ─ chaos, unformed heaven and earth
New Year’s Day, on the northwest veranda I welcome the sunrise
A plump fruit falls off naturally, the birth of 25 new seeds
Picked up placed in a bowl printed with “Best wishes throughout the year”
Very fine and pure sea of consciousness, waves flowing out from desirelessness
Serene bluish-green pool, wind giving rise to clouds and thunder.
Blizzard rolls up a sheet of bright white gauze
drapes it over a hazy ice city
Millennium cold fir arranged on the banks of an ancient pool
In the northernmost regions, there is an island cut out by ice skates
Inhabited by a mysterious native people dwelling in a palace of eternal silent light
Mirror of silence that sound of raindrops outside the three realms
In a tiny secret fjord ─ discovering
a dilapidated old ship with a log
recording the story of how it went off course long ago,
Golden ferry shuttling in the candlelight tunnel of twilight
Moonlight pouring down on a small silver bridge
One night on Spirit Mountain, a thousand years in the world of men
wondrous sound, forgetting to listen, knowledge galore
One who truly makes an end of distorted dreams
can return to the source and return to the heart
In a dream lotus boat drifting on a sleepless magic sea
directed by someone other than me
Only in the Saha world, by me rather than someone else
Fragrant building banner, flower of the mind most exalted
An awe-inspiring sound spread throughout a boundless world
vast sea of omniscience
Fallen mahogany branches frozen into the surface of a lake
Cold north wind shakes and stops millions of monarch butterflies
Winter cold delimits the range of the fish sauntering in a mountain stream
Spider perched inside the eight trigrams contemplating
who was that master who made that initial vow!
Light meets dust, dust meets light
Neither defiled nor immaculate.
Look, look, look at the moon in the water
guiding the rising and falling of the tide
Listen, listen, listen to the wind next to the ears
Today’s sky cloudless and wan
sketching nature requires turning in a blank exam paper
There are sights and sounds,
Dense atmosphere of an afternoon meeting deep in the forest …
From the edge to the core
True words of the Tathagata; true marks of the world
today where to search?
One thousand and eighty glowing pearls hidden in the store consciousness
who recognizes them?
Stringed instruments play spontaneously raising a flower and smiling slightly
Soundless realization chaos enters into the orifices
Seeds of the flower of awakening planted in a bottomless bowl
containing the sun and moon, storing heaven and earth; blessing all beings
in the world
 a black hole pours out from ignorance
Distant memory returns from the everlasting realm of the awe-inspiring sound outside of the kalpa
Deep blue waves wonderful observation
Lighting the lamp of the mind, then understanding the arising of the three realms
Happy children from the countryside come to the city to become troubled teenagers
Wilderness, home of reeds and silvergrass
Streets and buildings, spinning like a top inside a box
Wish-fulfilling tree hidden in a distant heaven
Foliage mysteriously moving outwards
Former dream of the subconscious mind
floating into the interface of the real • photographing an impression
Winter snow on top of a wondrous peak turns into an ice field
Exceedingly bright Milky Way born from
The merger of two spiraling black holes of ignorance.
Traveling in the silent space of the ten directions, fifty-three consultations
Since time immemorial, a pair of noble hands fond of climbing true emptiness and absolute reality
Who is it who can unlock purple-red, orange-yellow, blue-green
black and white the legend of every type of mysterious light
Winter snowstorm sprinkling a romantic silver
Spring arriving on a gentle breeze, hundred herbs fond of making a majestic display
A shadowless tree, roots and shoots never muddied
That irreversible unsinkable ship turns out to be fitted with a false bottom
All day long, obscurely anchored in the reed catkins deep, deep, deep …
What’s to fear? Shouldering a shoulder pole
One basket full, one empty
suddenly rushing straight to a dream of a rainbow
A thousand kinds of ideas • crowding into the further shore
Mind of unity • searching for the path in the path, entering the sea of purity
Wind blows a big roar out of the stone mortar
There is a true self in the bright temple of the mind
Outside the gate the tide sings, waves reflect the brilliant sky
Who is it who throws the incense of the heart into a furnace
Lighting that eternal precious candle
Vowing to deliver all sentient beings ─ from every tribulation.
Thick fog-towel windbreaker of the mountain
Misty cloud-banner mantle of the mountain
A lonely elder eager to mount the summit and pick a star
only to be tripped up by the red glow filling the sky
At the top of a flying waterfall,
There is an exceedingly bright dew collector, the bathing pool of the gods
A mysterious flower of stunning beauty blooms in the spring of the hometown of the snow
Winter, the Youth sees in the silvery light
an egret hiding in the moon
The way home ─ suddenly
appears on the frozen Spirit Mountain
Behold! That mysterious virgin forest in a northern clime
Each branch imprinted with ice crystals
Snow drift blows towards a withered mahogany, shaking loose a summer dream full of green
Ice field covered by a sea of clouds, primordial impasse, whiter than white
Who is it who can make the best use of silver to make a sketch transporting
sheets of ice drifting in the water
circling left and right, forward and back
Going around and around, but not going around childhood hide and seek
hiding in the culverts of memory
Wet grasslands, tiger lilies already sporting yellow flowers
Wind blows like a misty gauze-fog
Gently caressing countless exquisite pagodas.
Come to the meeting of mountain and sea for the New Year holiday
Early morning bamboo bee in love with the eaves of my shoes
Going out, carelessly step on someone
Resulting in an intentional unintentional bite
somewhat shocked, I quickly say sorry
Last day of Greater Cold, I step on the head of spring
withered leaves already piecemeal
Eager to climb a rocky pinnacle for fun but see
the cast-off shells of an autumn cicada
hanging on the beefwood trees
Left and right above and below
and many more glittering shells beyond the eye’s purview
I swiftly scoop up five or six cicada suits
Just then the bright pearls of night come floating up on the other side
three strikes of the distinct chime invite a white cloud to stay overnight
North wind still enclosing the cold igloo of winter
Wavering snow plums increasingly glow a silvery transparent white
Suddenly, a late sunset
dyes the horizon and cape dazzling red
First peach blossoms smiling slightly
Display their supernatural powers ─ wishing to exchange winter for spring.

Birth of Spring, 2003
== back to top ==

Book 56 Riddle of the Buckwheat-shaped Amethyst
─ Puppet meets puppeteer

Visualize in the distance
the native-place totem becoming clearer
A vajra-raft that never leaks
Holding a buckwheat-shaped amethyst
The sentimental mind of the guest on
The primordial sea of aeons cuts thru jade like mud • sharp
Clambering, continually spewing out a web of dream and illusion
Where should one make a stand?
Numinous vulture crosses a summit
arrives at an egret pool in a copse of black bamboo
How to conquer vain imaginings?
Floating in the river of defilement, accidentally exposing the body and spirit
worldlings believe in the existence of self.

Hexagonal snowflakes piled into pure drifts
In the early spring frozen crystals turn into dew becoming
rivulets trickling and rushing into streams and rivers …
Westerly wind reluctant to forget the fallen leaves covering the ground
Corner of the north wind fond of tugging on the roots and vines of old trees
Withered branches growing white wings
tips glittering with the magical colors of late winter
An icefall like a silver sail mounted high on a cloud
Round of existence relying on seeds of karma planted in the past, innumerable and constantly changing
Phenomena of the present, fruits gradually ripening
in the sea of aeons since time immemorial.
Lake surrounded by winter ice like a mirror
Opaque silver sail facing upwards takes a photo
sun silently falls behind the mountain ─
A white candle burning bright for five days
Under a street light crowds of people silently scurry about
Earth’s core following the movement of the universe
Planets floating in space
Yesterday the Visitor still wallowing in memories past
When the Wanderer left home
He placed a lock on the door, leaving for good
Dawn red-dyed stream depicts a thousand lovely scenes
Locals keenly waiting for someone to return
Frog spits out bubbles
form each one glimmering and crystal-clear
Wind of sensory impingement rises, countless bubbles appear on the waves
feeling dream portrait leaves behind innumerable attractive images
Yellow sands with rolling dry heat, huge compelling sun
Vision dazzled by glaring sunlight
Perception provocative illusions surging forward
ungraspable, unstoppable …
Empty and unsubstantial is the plantain trunk
Hearing comes from sound, every circulating word throws the tonality into chaos
Conditioning the various minds of sentient beings are not minds
phantom larvae become pupae
morphing into butterflies filling the sky
Consciousness midnight dream
Chiseling into the door of the sea of awakening going home
enjoying the rustic charm of an ancient rural village
On the way, a northern golden orb weaver with a keen sense of touch
Feeling the motion of the web capturing
all manner of prey in its net.
Bright moon rises up like a target
A group of bats flies out from a secret cave and goes on a tour of inspection
Delusion nightly tightly woven expanding the territory of the five desires and six senses
In the wild gorge of the aggregates
There are billions of spider webs waiting for billions of butterflies
The 51 attributes of the mind, use a digital alliance to take turns telling stories
while shuttling about a phantom net in the sea of consciousness
valid stored value increasing lifetimes of beautiful stories
Mind of realization ever fond of numerical metaphors
Scarcely realizing the universe’s mysterious non-quadrant law of probability
right at daybreak
all the nightingales return to their nests
misty alpine lake suddenly
shrouded by clouds and fog, disappearing …
Commiseration all because salvation has yet to be effected
for all sentient beings of the ten directions and three times
Virtual space, the lonely Traveler’s
phantom city fashioned from illusions
Child fond of dreaming, dreams of acquiring
that small white flower of the awe-inspiring sound it’s said that
whoever gains it, transcends birth and death
the mysterious space-time awareness and delusion
Cyan light North Pole in Greater Cold
Pure floating ice bringing legends of primordial icebergs
The Master Craftsman of Uncanny Ability takes up the torch of wisdom
stores it in the basement of the original ice palace
At dusk the Shepherd Boy leads the cattle back home
Opens the barn, unfolds his easy chair, and together with the cattle
greets the golden drum of the sun setting in the rosy-pink sky.
An unconscious image floats by in a big bright mirror
Desolate desert, the Wanderer choking with sobs
Among the bustling flowers, the Traveler suddenly goes into a wonderful dance
Great Earth fast asleep under the dazzling starlight
Rising sun rouses dreaming fairies
light and shadow over a century pushing against one another …
tender white baby already become
weathered gray-haired old man
The tympanic music king of the native place, heaps of musical notes
echoing in the valley of stars barring entry to the Milky Way
Moonlight, pure radiance sprinkling down from a seam in the clouds
Beyond the bamboo hedge of night is the icy winter frost
The purple-gold attire of late autumn
now dyed pure white by late winter
On a crag there is a pine fond of asking the north wind:
“How is it that in Greater Cold a dazzling flower blooms?”
The north wind loudly replies:
“That’s how a tiny white flower in the bitter cold
can shake the heavens with a thundering roar ─ "
Who is it who can turn over the pyramids, make plans in a military tent
A central system of the rewitnessing aspect, storing
staggered comings and goings just like
a record of the subjective and objective aspects as numerous as the sands of the Ganges.
Sea of dreams transmitting 42 special sounds released by the subconscious mind
three thousand years ago …
53 old friends gather
For a climbing race in a gorge bounded by lofty peaks
Naked ice crystals like an hourglass, strings dripping wet through the cold
Occasional winter sun shining thru
still not enough to warm the cold north wind
Tonight, silvery white igloo of multiple thick layers
Wondering who is inside lighting a fire.
Within the scripture of the sea of consciousness chaotic region of initial awakening
ever storing emotive memory of the original thought of enlightenment
Gold is the self-nature, the utensil is phenomena
Minerals are that beginningless inexplicable thought prior to the six
senses
Before lighting the lamp, suchness has never deviated from the worlding
After lighting the lamp, the worldling still has a weakness for confusion
Once the lamp is burning bright, see that trumpet creeper wrapped around the old cypress
There is an open-air lecture hall holding mountains
raising up a 20-fold world-sea dew collector
A puppet show ─
Puppet meets puppeteer, each has his own taste
Today the master is the object of concern for all living beings
For ages bound tight by the snares of love
shouldering the increasingly heavy burden of the aggregates
Open-air ancient academy,
A boy keen on having a grove full of peach trees
quietly seals two peach seeds in wax
The Youth places the bright power of mindfulness in the numinous center
Under the moonlight the eternal Zifangyuan again composes a new song.
Firefly’s wonderful soft light filters
dust-like vain imaginings and views
Clear and serene truth of a cicada, settling complex fiery emotions
Pine planter uses a golden ax to carve an old sacred tree into a canoe
sends it down to an uninhabited estuary;
The Master Craftsman of Uncanny Ability releases a numinous spear of wisdom
Instantly subduing ─ the Mara of ignorance goading desires and compelling the senses
Everywhere promoting the mantra of the void waiting for
the quiet Visitor to barge in
Greater Cold in the depths of winter, hometown people are going back home
Leaving only you, wandering alone in the corridor of a dream
Crescent bay
between cliffs flashing with transparent amethyst sand,
the legendary lapis lazuli formed by the underwater coral reefs and the
rise and ebb of the primordial tide;
Every grain of sand, nurtures a vast yet tiny scripture
Little do they know there are other peaks outside the main peak
nearby yet another peak
The Wanderer’s subconscious mind directing ─
all the senses to enter the ice field, the snowy peak
and search for the invisible colorless tree of life
after the release of native species,
extending crimson hands toward the fire
Planting that eternal snow-lotus.
An ancient lighthouse, making a rubbing of generations of legendary fisherman
Sail raises, boat sails towards the theater of chaos where day and night are the same
Happy dreams ever fond of dyeing the sky purple
In times past, a raging storm disturbed the Autumnal Equinox
Painter painting in the palace of spring
himself unwittingly sketched by the sunlight
Hangover • winter maple and sweet gum deftly net the frost
Dawn • deer running leopard in hot pursuit
wheel of time turning on a road in a dream
It’s said that the future is uncertain
two or three bosom friends invite
old friends to enter deep into the forested mountains, to search for
the pristine childlike mind amongst the forget-me-nots and day lilies
transplanted to a lovely temple ......
Red dragonfly praying on the crest of a wave
Old tree in the field branches already withered
leaves no longer fall
winter about to pass, buds eager to emerge
Mud-brick house old organ in the corner
Fresh fingertips touch the old notes
The nostalgic Youth stores childhood memories in a corner of the mind
─ night
countless stars suspended in the vault of heaven
shining like Indra's net
A butterfly perches on the Youth’s nose.
French windows, everywhere peach blossoms eager to cast off the snow
North Pole winter, sunset wrapped in a layer of misty fog
sliding below the white hills for a quiet curtain call
Two or three bamboo strips woven into one big basket
Thick and continuous yet there’s no netting the Traveler’s wandering soul
Fast-paced lovely sights fall away from the train window
Following one loop on the road circling the island
Return to the excellent summit to view the sunrise
God of spring picks up a bunch of peach stamens and paints a spring-ox image
White and silver world, campfires all over a beach
Burning on the evening of the Lantern Festival
The Youth builds a mental protective wall still
unable to fend off the incursions of illusion and delusion
Rain comes, bubbles arising and ceasing in form and space
Subtle change … light and shadow
confirmed at the extremes of a moment and eternity
Sentient beings struggling in a seamless dance dream
True love reversing that ancient mirror inside the bag of enduring mysteries
Wipe out ─ a glimmering light.

February 5, 2003
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Book 57 The Awe-inspiring sound of the Dance of the Wind
─ Encounter between signs and appearances

Cloudless sky of silence
Hundreds of millions of years and never moved by the vicissitudes of sight and sound
Ancient path trampled by numb visitors
Destroying lichen born of the thousand-year symbiosis of moss and algae
Original light of the primordial cosmogenic chaos
A faint ray streaks across an array of thick black clouds
Wild delusions, ready to fly up
Adamantine wheel of time without beginning or end
A small dream boat tossed about in grade-thirteen crests
In case any insight is gained
Turn around and dedicate the merit
Restore ─ the original totem of the soul.
A solid immortal seed, as fine as dust
Since time immemorial planted in the Land of Felicity
Who is it who can walk with awareness step by step
thought by thought thought aware of thought …
The Youth in an ancient Arcadia searching for the wise yi bird
Spring breezes blowing in from the native place
Boundlessly splendid and august, flora reveling in the wind
listening attentively to the holeless flute of heaven and earth
producing a subtle sound vibrating the heartstrings of men
Gravel road in the mountains, leaving behind a black and white ink pad
The Master Craftsman of Uncanny Ability encrypting the original form
The Yogi enters into the heaven of neither perception nor non-perception
Passing thru eighty-four thousand aeons
without giving rise to discrimination or attachment, unshakable concentration
Public art boy fills empty space with a rainbow
Origin of heaven and earth ancient Saha rhyme
A sequence of musical notes hidden inside a mystical stupa
Boundless secret drawer in the mountains in the depths of winter
containing deeply heaped piles of dead leaves,
Who is it who applied a black shading agent onto the cloak and cape
Blocking the pathway of the luminous moon?

Formula One racer
speeding on a bumpy track
Boundless cloudy sky, condor chasing the wind
Competing in the air turbulence of a sunny sky
A great trichiliocosm thus forming
Seeing form, attaching to form pulled by desire
true self therein repeatedly exhorting
Hearing sound, attaching to sound bound by vain imaginings
other-dependent, chasing after light and shadow
Eyes and ears, pure and dusty
Both apprenticed to true sight and sound
How could there not be worldly entanglement?
Way back in the hoary past, the original people had a dance
There was one of extensive knowing, endowed with the marvelous insight of original bodhi
reflective • all illuminating ─
But one time at a banquet in a fragrant jade copse
A tear of one enrapt by visual perception
fell into the sea of omniscience from then on
seeing others but not oneself;
hearing, but forgetting the nature of sound itself
quiescent mind of feeling and response, perverting the essential nature
The mountain of ignorance blocking the pathway of the sunlight
Peak unmoving, the seven emotions and eight types of consciousness take on material form
Hallucinations and delusions alternating within the self-concept
Conjuring up three thousand kinds of magical farfetched notions
Imagination and clambering weave a formless
map of geometrical space, gathering eighty thousand kinds of sorrow
Today solitary awareness drifts on the vast sea of time
Every type of anxiety and sorrow dashes against a powerful red element
Hot desert, no spring garden in sight
Gnosis has long since humbly offered to the original simple mind
A clean and dust-free Moonlight serenade, but it’s already singing out of tune
trembling already become a dazzling dance costume
Dusk, the lonely Traveler hurries down the mountain alone
Monastic’s hands of simplicity sweeping leaves off 51 steps
The Little Girl shows off for everyone on a stage in a dream
Sudden midnight clap of thunder startled awake
scared into a cold sweat ... reluctant to leave the person in the drama
Because of an accidental meeting with a loved one from a past life.
Mind born of intention
In the empty palace of the spirit, there is a nameless bat
Dancing intoxicated in a dream realm of inconceivable ignorance
Appearances born of appearance
The Wanderer harboring gratitude prays for a safe passage home
The bodhisattva patiently embraces the suffering of sentient beings
Awe-inspiring sound of the dance of the wind, even the squiggling creatures are sentient, bound for awakening
The Little Girl sheds three tears and frankly says:
“Mind your own business.”
Malposition a loop buckle decoupling capacity and energy
Fastening the unbalanced balance of matter and quality
See that atlas of the symbiosis of city and village, scarecrow
of fluorescent grass living in simplicity
Faint deserted village
Not used to the new sleeping bag brought by the guest from afar, as usual
passing the frigid winter in that old cotton-padded coat
Deeply concealed fishing boat slowly returning to port in the twilight
Backlit by the blazing torch of the setting sun
Expansive within a boundless sea
eighty-four thousand li away
A sage of great compassion rides an old condor, lingering
in the transfer post of boundless space
watching over all the sentient beings on the blue planet
hearing their voices, coming to the rescue.
Inaudible and invisible beyond sound and form
The Little Girl lights a lantern during the Spring Festival
Wishing for good grades and a strong memory
Beside the door of an old house, an old grandmother holding a grandson playfully teasing
Cachet spring sun in a secluded house sketching space
Dawn daily inviting the first rays of morning sun to join in a song
Opening rivers and streams pouring in
nothing material allowed to pass
an inverted waterfall shoots up from the ground swirling
supporting a 20-fold world sea like an inverted ziggurat
Gone hunting the Yogi traveling far and wide reaches an impasse
only to discover that he has never even set foot outside the door
Mountain climber fond of shouting from a wondrous peak
but the Maiden sees herself sleeping in a dream
Incursion a mind of profundity can’t net the ten thousand strands of sincerity
Dissecting a seed, never reaching the end
all the beloved treasures
in an old farmer’s field ……
Just so • no coming
The mind becomes confused, the spirit turns interminably
No need for dejection about those flowers earlier planted, now withered
Rest assured long ago transplanted are those flowers, flourishing all over
Just so • no going
Whirling inside, storming outside
a body in possession of ten thousand kinds of emotions
Page of heaven and earth, childlike mind
Developing in the mind-mirror of the self
The Painter with essential nature in view, waiting on the road of tacit understanding
launching a sneak attack on all the vain imaginings
If • ignorance sits down
There is a mirror writing out endless forms
Magical colors retaining images beside the bright moon
The Youth uses his entire body to pull a bow
Shooting strings of musical notes into the void, without leaving reverb
if • ignorance lies down
deeply knitted brows, a pair of eyes fond of affection
subtle element of sympathy and pity
whirling along with the objective supports of form objects in the sea of consciousness
If • there is never any coming
Atomic dust, is a plaything in the Heaven of Radiant Sound
The Kapila Incantation born of the beguiling song of the five aggregates
Wounded heart, damaged intention
The Maiden’s tears condense on the cheek
Rain, two pairs of eyebrows and eyelashes cannot hide those cheerless eyes
If • there is never any going
three mountains and two rivers covered by a single cloud
at night, a savage dream roams about a happy city
sunrise, old woodsman in an open valley using twigs to draw a circle
silently and intensely
a chance encounter of signs and appearances …
Insomnia, all on account of dusty robbers
The cipher-like Wanderer still dreaming, not yet awake
Countless lifetimes rushing about on the sea of illusion
Fine raindrops bring sweat from the tip of the nose.
Imploring the teacher a brazier of incense and still no response
Diametrically opposed signing in
weaving a world of ensnaring love, an online war game
Elsewhere thick fog throughout the year
Shrouding that high and steep cliff
A meteor takes a wrong turn in the Milky Way
barging into a supernatural extradimensional space
A wilted hibiscus flower floating down to a blue pool
A round water-mirror sends off a merciless visage
A cluster of spotlessly white glittering ice racing on the sea
A conch puts on wings launches into the sky
and flies over the waters
One thousand pearls inter-reflecting in a network of silky threads
Moonlight quietly descends on the bathing pools in all the heavens
A lovely scene everywhere rebroadcast
Seven-string scale spontaneously sounds
Delicately interlacing on three levels distinctly ringing
floating froth, originally a transparent wave on the world sea
Wondering who sees and who hears.
Seeking art the Youth passes over winding and rugged mountain trails
into a frosty silver-white day
Oppressively cold material world
On Birth of Spring still offering a sacrifice to winter ─
snow drifts capped with ice, like bubbles in the sea
white goose feather still falling from the sky
snow piled up season after season, spring yet to thaw
Hiking boots have been traded in for silver-lace shoes startled awake
In a stand of reed catkins, there are a thousand white horses leaving their hoof prints
ten thousand egrets go to hide in the moonlight
Seeking the Dharma silently forming heaven and earth into a composite
Endless beach, since time immemorial tread on by a pair of grass sandals
North wind ridicules the ice for playing tricks
Ice invites winter plums to travel together
Winter plums invite the condor to pay a visit to the cold north wind
Mystical shield of stabilization on the sea of wisdom, invincible
Store consciousness unveils a numinous spear forged of attachment, all conquering
Towering tree one of lofty character climbs up and picks the stars
Elsewhere rolling white wave crests
Just like peach blossoms wavering in the spring sun
Thus have I heard returning
a pure sound to the ear faculty, a soft sound
Listen to those joyous wind chimes ever accompanying the wind listening to the sky
Oh Yogi striving in spring as you may well know
the true appearance of spring has already been crushed underfoot ......

February 9, 2003
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Book 58 Time Palace of the Tripartite House of Childhood
─ Legend of the superjacent crescent moon

Landing place ─ who is it who says that that person in the dream
Is not one hundred percent me?
Within the waves on the sea of delusion there is a secret path of the wheel of time said
to be the place where my childhood self regularly appears
How is it that we are not acquainted?
Vast all-encompassing fog envelops the thousand-stamen spider webs
Flowers’ passion already abandoned,
The road to Spirit Mountain gradually recedes … who serves as a companion?
There is a hoopoe bird that treads on the crest of the flowing clouds
Dancing in the spotless skies, just one thought
All those seeds planted by me three thousand years ago presently
sprout
A refreshing breeze is at base the heart of youth
Why, then, induce the searching bat wings of the mind of the past
and the desirous delusions of the mind of the future, to join forces
In plundering and harassing the sensitive nature of awakening?
Handle • a dreamlike scene
gnawed all over by the gears of time
a pair of eyes collecting signs gathering
infinite information and storing it in the memory banks of the sea of consciousness
Mountain valley enshrouded in mist
flowers in bud wanting to stay, not staying
White crane flies into a dream within a dream seeking
the native place of the bright moon
bringing a non-visual composite image infinitely superimposed
Concealed point dreamed of the village of that hometown sweetheart
Rainwater writes the Wanderer’s melancholy
On the faded and mottled bamboo fence
Sojourning in the phantom city, the Traveler latches onto
a blurry photo
Subtlety and profundity turn out to be the earliest happy impression of childhood
Recollecting, those decayed memory chips
just like thickly spread dry leaves ground up by the zealous talent of youth
Simple and pure stardust of esoteric causes floating down from the Heaven of Radiant Sound
Transforming into an element consisting of water, fire, earth, and wind
Rejuvenating all the flora of the blue planet
At the center of the dew collector on the world-sea, there burns
a primordial eternal seed-flame
Foliage of an old sacred tree forms a high ladder
Innumerable treetops mounted by eagles deep in contemplation
Millions of small drops of water moisten ten million small white flowers
Pervading light rain kisses the flora covering the mountain
Birth of Spring ambrosia subdues Greater Cold
All the vegetation smiles ......
Remote lone crane perching atop a withered pine
Sending up a line, to find out who he’s conversing with
Northern wilderness with a wild goose wandering on the horizon
If not for the wetland-fords in the south
How, then, would the migratory birds spend the winter?
There was a little girl who once came upon a lost pigeon
and drew it map showing the way home
Taking one step, turbid billowing waves
Dimming the radiance and mingling with the dust, doesn’t mean tainting the light
Engaging in modest and open-minded self-examination
Makes it possible to ride a bubble in the center of the boundless sea, dwell in the abode of the gods
And listen to the sound of the waves pounding the water back and forth
One time, innumerable musical tones
A mystical nanometer quantum effect touched off
a super-subtle atomic movement
giving form to objects ─
silently shining between heaven and earth unimpeded in every respect
compatible with the interface card in the eye of the needle.
Hoisting up a shoulder pole someone fond of talking to himself
Blue rose garden in a dream, infinity extending
Covering little villages rustic and quiet
Ancient tracks transformed into a new theater
Walls and alleys extending in ten directions, forming a sunset maze
In a dream I am surrounded by the native species garden back home
That shepherd boy of childhood still fond of humming a tune
Even when the wind kicks up, the clouds start rolling, and thunder crashes
there’s no stopping his song of sincerity
Who is it who forcefully implanted those seeds of delusion in the field of the store consciousness
Floating out the cognitive hindrances of what is seen and heard
Who is it who mistakenly injected animal genes into the plant world
Rebirth
Today, all the fruit takes the shape of animals.
Exploration means the feet of the spring sun trampling thru the spring mud
Worn blue cliff, retaining the scars of human suffering
Behind a green curtain there is a secret stone room
Who is it who can light up the lamp of the five directions: east, south, west, north, center
instantly illuminating the way to the palace of the ancient kings
Outside the window of desire, that correct cause of the sound of raindrops
As it turns out, flowers and plants all over
Already springing up, sounding off like thunder!
Startling awake a colony of African monarchs pretending to be withered leaves covering a tree
Prairie land in the spring displaying a rugged style
Eagle, patrolling in the clouds
Nighttime mountain wind fond of teasing that mysterious flute without holes
producing infinite sound
Boundary between the form realm and the formless realm liminal world’s
day and night, appearing
in the primary form revealed in the Yogi’s sensory ability
The Youth running in the mountains occasionally
stopping to look down and tie his shoes, only to
discover a few little flowers falling in love with the grass.
Not understanding two forked roads intersect
there is a dream repeatedly disrupting sleep
A broad stairway of fifty-one steps
each level displaying numinous symbols of cause and effect, arising and ceasing
Urgent light and shadow impatiently waiting in front of time
How is it that the god of sleep hinders the dream spirit
Once a year, the residents of an old aboriginal village light up ten thousand sky lanterns
Boundless lamplight blooming in the night sky
Morning dew touching off the responsive light spectrum of the leaf veins mutual love
henceforth unable to lower the misery index of clinging affection
The Master Craftsman hangs a mirror in the void looks upon ─
the clear yellow soil in the palace of Mara
crimson mountains dark green silk curtain light blue lapel
Suddenly catching sight of a silvery treasure ship near a promontory, carried far in the wind
Tall mast piercing the horizon
availing the power of bodhicitta, the Youth commands the celestial sailors of samatha
clearing away multiple complex ice floes of the defilements along the way
There may be material form with self, other, hate, love
These are the karma-producing bonds common to all species
There may be immaterial form with mind settled in samadhi
This is for listening to the silent bursts of empty thunder
there may be perception on an unfamiliar street
a troop of itinerant singers plying their trade
in a maze of fog, a fool converses with an illusion
there may be perception from the past to the future
a major historical drama, scene by scene
recurring on the road of eternal space-time, repeatedly broadcast …
There may be neither perception with consciousness, nor perception without consciousness
Affective delusion the dreaming Wanderer peers into a mirror
Seeing an anxious expression all over his face, not knowing what for.
Who is it who used the spring mud and red bricks to raise a multistoried pagoda
A single lamp and a single censor swaying outside the door on each level
Dusk small village of the mountains and sea
Each chimney keeping watch for those yet to return,
Each window telling a little story
Night comes, someone in a dream
A pair of wet feet treading on a sticky smooth ancient trail
a pair of hands wielding a brush, writing on a worn cliff
In an ancient myth, the new source person
uses the song of the wind to communicate with his bosom friend
Together composing the original totem of life
At present, this secret has been deep asleep in the moonlight for eighty-four thousand years
The Master Craftsman single-mindedly during the seventh lunar month
when the humidity reaches a peak, gingerly
Applies his steely tools to an ancient sacred tree
hewing a supremely resilient non-reversing sailing ship
In this way the sacred tree restores
It’s original intention, waiting to
Again make its contribution.
All of a sudden, fog fills the sky, obscuring the main peak and subsidiary peaks
A thousand lamps like beaded curtains appear in the night sky
Waves of light dance into a silver-white waterfall
The Wanderer pilots his canoe to a strange city
falling into an exhausted sleep
drifting … into the realm of Mara ─
Boundless dreams wait for 365 dawns in the space of a year
Night of the new moon,
Interweaving starlight forms a celestial butterfly
In the Milky Way there appear a thatched house and a mud-brick house
As well as that palatial tripartite house of childhood
The celestial kitchen serving up savory sweet potato leaves, skewered sweet potatoes
Piles of tender glistening rice, fragrant as incense
Another stove heating a wide-mouthed pot of taro porridge
A banquet for the one who says hello at the window at dusk
Thus do dreams scurry about
in the illusory past • in accordance with non-abiding.
If not for trifling matters the Youth would have no way of harassing
that positionless immortal within
Every day the god of night departs with the fairy of the day
Returning behind the shadow of a dream ─
Subconscious delusions as overwhelming as billowing waves
Submerged, the Traveler passes another sleepless lonely night …
Perfect dream, a pine tree in a small basin
growing three thousand years
Perfect condition, a never-fading aquarelle telling the story
of an ancient city of elegant demeanor
Perfect sign, each green plant
covering the pervasive orange oakleaf butterflies
instantly spring permeates every nook and cranny
East wind takes up the rainwater and makes a rubbing of the footprints of the god of spring
amidst all the fresh buds and sprouts
Wriggling creatures endowed with spirit, vying to rush forth
An intensely unstable mood bursts into the cloud-water zone
Thunder and lightning meet for an afternoon rain
Hue index turns from blue and white to gray and black
Inexplicable patch of color from
the headland moves in and dyes the summits
Attached to mountains and flowers, the worlding loses the way
New thought, of unknown provenance
Old thought, of unknown destination
A fragile bubble floats about on the sea for eighty-four thousand aeons
Unto weariness and self-destruction
Returning to the water
Just like that, nowhere to go.

February 11 and 14, 2003
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Book 59 Thirty-three Bits Transformed into an Increasing Application in Nine Lifetimes
─ The story of you, me, him, and them

Pacific Ocean meets the East Coast Mountain Range in early spring next to the Wind Pavilion
Eye-catching blue-white down to verdant green
brilliant red and dark green arrayed from far to near
White clouds printed on the sky, morning mist wandering in the valley of spirit
the best of men, by leaving the one impartial Dharma realm
Restores repentance and moral dread
To the pious mind’s eye
Lighting up that bright candle of protection from fear
only then can he pacify the fear born of ignorance plaguing sentient beings
Off in the distance votive sky-lanterns slowly rising into the sky
Wavering bright stamens swirling upwards
Beyond civilization a cloud-lion peers down on a summit.
In the case of one endowed with self-awareness
How could that inner impetuosity do its dance
Sentient beings ought to adhere to the moral order of heaven and earth
Why, then, coursing in samsara, do they regularly go off the rails
Beneath an old banyan tree, a storyteller fond of telling tales of the past
A story of seven days and seven nights, starting time unknown
A modicum of intuitive understanding in search of esotericism steals into the enchanted palace of the original dream
Often heavy is the heart of the bodhisattva always relying
on the sights and sounds of the world of sentient beings
A poor child supplicates the grace of heaven
All because he can’t find his father, the Great Caravan Leader of Supreme Knowledge
The Beguiling Lord of the Five Aggregates tells him ─
All you have to do is demarcate the territory of the self
Saying, “That’s where I am;
that’s where my self resides.”
Night opens its big dark mouth
and swallows the poor child’s boundless wandering dream
Recalling the old Fort Zeelandia
With its broad lawns stretching out with the wind
Lens instantly captures an eternal moment of reality
Yet forever beyond recombination, slipping thru the fingers
Mirage like everything in the universe placed in the past tense
Light of the heart opens a road
From the thorny wilderness of the five aggregates to that wondrous peak
Summoning the deva-soldiers of samadhi, to intercept the sinking soul of desire
The rosy clouds of dawn pull back the clear blue curtain of the heavens attracting
A matchless condor to curiously scan a 360° panoramic photograph.
Poor child with amnesia distractedly wandering in the desert
happens upon ─ the Spring Equinox at dusk
On the western shore there is a golden drum transmitting bursts of thunder
In contemplation, there arises a memory of the people back home
What time what vow
Moves the mind of profundity out of the realm of delusion
and settles it on the perfectly tranquil mountain of the wondrous peak
Daily gazing upon that glowing twilight mist below bare spring feet
Fresh blossoms of peach and apricot kissing
lonesome plum blossom spirits late in leaving ……
Your heart, my heart, his heart, and their hearts why no heart-to-heart transmission
yet so fond of an online game of the coming together of various conditions
Wilderness in a frameless photo
round clusters of cotton blooming in the fields
boundless divine energy of white
Wind of the senses blows waves of the mind roll on
Vain imaginings kick up a sandstorm filling the sky
Azure-blue sky-sea turns overcast
Sense faculties bought off by the experiential world
An old lady in the mountains brimming with energy and vitality, daily
making a lamp and giving it to the Traveler returning at night
The poor child begins to understand, that from self-nature is to be obtained
that mind of profundity capable of observing the mind of heaven.
Red petals white feathers
Floating in the air, whirling out a graceful dance of wonderful interpenetration
Within a bit’s 0 and 1
All virtual illusions seize upon every conception in the Youth’s heart
A type of ignorance without beginning or end besieges the Wanderer’s dreams
A dear one met by chance in a dream, after waking suddenly leaves
Yet he can’t return to her all the memories from the night before
Thusness momentarily overlooks self-nature
circulating inside the rapidly whirling wheel of time …
The power of karma sets in motion the inverted world, illusory, unbridled, and frenzied
I know who you are, but in a dream I always pass you by
The Little Girl likes to hide the lovely secrets in her mind in a corner
Someone in my dream discharges the Kapila Incantation ─ causing me
tonight to again meet with you in a dream;
Early knowing, the various forms of phantom images are not the real transformation body
Yet in the chaotic subconscious region
I knock down a door, then make a new one
If one can make body and mind as tranquil as a swallow
then with a single finger one can press down ten thousand rays of light.
Someone presently plays the beguiling song of the five aggregates
The Maiden next door utterly silent in a dream, tears until dawn
Invitation ─ time permitting, tonight
holding hands, dreaming a dream of the common within the common in
a profoundly subtle imaginary place weaving fine threads into a secret lovely scene
It’s said that, whatever one believes in is sure to exist
Behold! The power of a single flower petal has formed this numinous palm-leaf scripture
A thin-as-snow white feather turns into a swan of silver ice crystals
soaring up to the bright and clear firmament,
Tears of a nymph of radiant sound fall like a spring shower
A drama rehearsed over and over again
The mind of great awakening ever abiding in the secret treasury of three points, turning the wheel of the Dharma in accordance with the minds of sentient beings
A burning liquid turns into the impetuous monster of ignorance and flaming anger
The Little Girl puts on a cherubic expression and curiously asks:
"Where do all these red caterpillars live?"
The Youth replies:
"Wait until you grow up, and then ask the butterflies!"
Ancient village, children loudly reciting scriptures □□□□□□□
From the West comes a new discovery demonstrating
The existence of dark energy, by virtue of which the universe will not collapse and disintegrate
The Youth suddenly remembers the words of his teacher back home:
“For whomever wakes up from the dream,
the entire world, right down to empty space, completely disappears.”
Perhaps a secret factor in the sea of consciousness, the common within the common, isogeny recombining producing
a subtle uncommon within the uncommon ─ the result of excellent karma
Thus there is a mysterious genetic force,
within every visible material object
whether as big as the Milky Way, or as small as bacteria
able to resist the powerful downward gravitational pull of ignorance and confusion
The Youth reflects on his teacher’s words ─
When the mind in imbued with wondrous numinous insight, then it’s possible to discover
the quiescent imperishable source.
Amur grapes hitch a ride on the beef wood trees and freely tour the spacious forest
Clambering and vain imaginings have a weakness for chaining up sentient beings
The free and unrestrained place in a person’s natural disposition
confines the Traveler’s reticent frame of mind in a dark secret chamber
In the space outside the Saha realm, there is a world beyond the world
On the sea of great awakening if the winds of the sense objects come to rest
Then the palace of the spirit, resplendent as colorful clouds beaming with light
displays the world-seeds in charge of the city of the distinctive mark of truth
the unimpeded Dharma realm □□□□□□□
In an unnamed place there is the university of the natural world
Where a batch of students are in an open-air classroom,
Noisily debating all day long for the sake of you, me, and him
but someone forgot all day to make the tea …
the original color he gives me pure white
the color I give you bright red
how is it that what you give him is dark blue
Someone on the sidelines observing, quietly loses a bit of color
Light rain the director of nature commands that the open-air venue
should be replaced by the space-time classroom of the world of sentient beings
My master is hidden inside Indra’s net suspended in space
He follows the wave-traces of faraway places cleverly interpenetrating in the channels of the ten directions
jittery and anxious
You are always in Zifangyuan spread over with sweet grass
searching for your bosom companion
Every day someone ignites charcoal and makes tea, as it turns out, for an old friend
how is it, then, that today they meet but don’t recognize each other?
Draw a circle, containing an empty self
Sketch the world of the five turbidities, and give it to that you who relieves all suffering
Weave an endless dream, and give it to him who is so fond of dreaming all day
Shrouded by fog and cloud the sun produces a lovely halo of seven colors
someone’s true appearance appears on the summit floating in space.
The dark blue sky allows the pale white clouds to leisurely ramble
As for me for the most part, I scarcely know what others are driving at …
Elusive bubbles in the sea, like dragonflies leisurely grazing the water
You fond of groaning all day …
Moonlight now taking refuge in the Traveler’s cuffs
Now jumping out, imprinting between the Visitor’s eyebrows
Him long learned in the ways of loneliness and solitude …
Spring, farmers and oxen plowing the fields
Laying down four parallel lines of unlimited extension
This is the busy planting season
Someone selflessly tilling in the rain
Contentedly blending into a world of misty skies.
Immeasurable secret factors ensconced in buds and stamens
Yet I’ve never been able to predict the future
Winds of delusion, nothing to rely on, rock the minds of sentient beings
You have come from the future back to the present
but have forgotten all the causes and conditions of past lives
Original luminosity of the essence of the mind has an unlimited memory capacity
By observing one’s innate disposition in position, turning around ─
Instantly grasping that melancholy expression
From the future returning to the past, entering into the present space
presently touching the present unattached to the real
The swirling wind of a great vow permeates the treasury of space pervading
the vast boundless sea, gestating the wavering flowers of great compassion
providing a residence for all living lotus seeds
Someone rising at 5:00 in the morning, the eyes of the true Dharma
flashing in the eastern sky
See those thirty-three bits transformed into an increasing application in nine lifetimes
Fashioned by the Master Craftsman of Consummate Skill, rising and ceasing according to causes and conditions … flowing light receding
An idea, suddenly converted into the profound approach of the past, present, and future influencing one another without confusion
Only the mind turning just so
Opening that sunset dream spirit hovering for a hundred years □□□□□□□

February 28; March 1–3, 2003
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Book 60 The Revolving Door of Inverse Space-time
─ Road, enter here

Light and shadow interpenetrating day and night, piece by piece, withering and falling
Love and affection lure beautiful youth to quietly pass
Last night rain fell in the brook of early spring …
Distinctive sound of a lone chime sways the secluded cabin
The Traveler fast asleep in a boat going downstream, waking to find he’s gone 3,000 li
For the awakened one, the vitality of youth
ever dwells in the
dignified state of the newborn baby
For the insightful one ─
It’s possible to freely act in the world thus
the conditions for the Scion Prince’s sojourn in the phantom city still pertain
Deep deep deep supremely vast and deep sea of aeons
lifetimes of memories in complex layers.
Whence this bewilderment?
Worldly thoughts, one thought lasts 3,000 years
A similar dream made eighty-four thousand times
The Youth’s melancholy expression, like a shadow chasing light, lingering
The steering wheel in the cab car of the train of enlightenment falls into neutral
August appearance arising out of the self-realization effected in past lives
It’s said that at the bottom of the sea there has been discovered a cremation stupa with a blackened chimney
aged 14.3 billion years
Formerly while contemplating inside the palace in the sea of awakening
I witnessed a stunning lily drift into the subconscious
filling the boundless empty space in a dream
A tilted island, waiting to be repaired by the quintessence of the sun and moon
Constellations in the future world, each thought absorbing its object, turning the mind
gestating the galaxy of supreme space
Dim the radiance and mingle with the dust, only when the lamp of the five aggregates is extinguished
does the boundless world of sentient beings come into view.
How can the bodhisattva mind entertain the endless entreaties of sentient beings
How is it that childhood memories have been sealed up by the circuit of delusion
Northern leaves flying in space each one silent
obscure, long fast asleep in the residual fantasy realm of a dream
Wild nongmangkha reddening the south, turning into a blood-red furnace flame
Within a mysterious world there is a revolving door of inverse space-time
Road, enter here
to replay yourself in the past.
West a drop of white dew shining a golden light
falling ─ into a future space-time
There is the eternal dream of the central group, wrapping up infinite space
Boundless space drawn into a bubble floating on the sea, exuding
the trackless nature of dusk …
East fond of tossing azure waves to catch the eye
That self without beginning, energy boundlessly expanding
endlessly besieging the suchness in the heart
desire of the dark night, intensely shaking
sciniphs in a bottle making a ruckus
domineering crabs fond of dwelling in holes
A huge landscape hidden behind a crumbling wall
A flash of light instantly absorbs the boundless sea of aeons
Overlapping and complex clambering and delusion how can it
obscure that original mark of truth
If not for those with discerning vision, what could be clearly understood?
Fire of the pure sun, spontaneously appearing
Fine seeds contaminated by dust
then stealing into the crucible of collective karma
Metamorphosis means glittering pearls strung
on the net of a celestial butterfly
suddenly, giving a pure greater Self
Flora, august and unnamed, springs up from the earth ─
Lichen born of the symbiosis of moss and algae spreads over
a slick ancient path
flowing thru the water-veins to eighty-four thousand pores
Following Birth of Spring, the wind gradually turns southeast
The Maiden gazing at the brow of love and affection unwittingly
falls into a dreamlike empty map composed of thought and deed
Red clouds flank the rising sun, a child draws the curtain
looks out the window
Today aspiring to come up with a new idea
planting the flowers of awareness in the net-sea of the six senses
Wind dance of the awe-inspiring sound ten whirling banners
Ten world-seeds arrayed on ten fragrant seas
Behold! The Youth inviting the moon to ride a silvery raft across space
By settling the very fine elements,
It’s possible to see the primeval scripture of the sea of essential nature;
By using the mind’s eye to pass thru the ten mysterious gates of the universe
it’s possible to return to the most excellent ten-dimensional space in the one impartial Dharma realm
There is a dew collector on the world-sea with a bottle
Nurturing mysterious and natural ten grains, each grain fully endowed with the six marks:
general, specific; same, different; arising, ceasing
Night forest, an owl quietly listens
to the echo emanating from the dark valley of the Wanderer’s heart
Can’t hold back the tears running down the cheek, all because
countless memories of worldly affections in life after life
At Caoling Village, there is a blue-cliff lovely in spring and fall
Green willow branches filtering the sun- and moonlight flickering on the surface of a lake
The Traveler’s long silent search for the mind, wondering where it is.
Seeing the hand of essential nature, hoping to dance out a miracle
The feet of illusory perception, ready to jump into the peach grove and stir the spring mud
Counterforce of the moonlight arrests the Youth’s boat traveling upstream
Prevent greed-born ignorance from arbitrarily dispatching troops from the domain of delusion
Waves of consciousness spilling out bubbles as numerous as the sands of the Ganges
magically arising and ceasing in a dream
How to remain unstained and undefiled by sight and sound?
In the aggregate of consciousness there is an unchanging factor
producing a magical innate password setting in motion
A formless gravitational force pressing on the numinous palace of true emptiness
releasing the trio of views, ignorance, and mental disturbances of innumerable details
beguiling sounds intruding
the Great Caravan Leader of Supreme Knowledge builds a phantom palace
while on the lookout for his runaway children
Henceforth, the mind of spiritual intelligence
can no longer quieten those vibrating silk strings
Fire of anger rushes into a darkening black light
turning into bursts of thunder and lightning
intention drifts off course and runs aground
A big round wisdom-mirror quietly departs …
Karmic seeds of ignorance vying to thrive
receding waves minding the past collide with the numinous zone
Eight dimensional space, instantly becomes ─
the subtle realm of vain imaginings of the uncommon within the uncommon
thoroughly perfuming the changing qualities of thought, consciousness, and self
A mighty thunderbolt rends a fissure in the night sky …
A lotus seed grows larger than the lotus flower …
A lotus seedpod becomes bigger than the lotus leaf …
Sensitive tactile sense of the fingertips brushes past the window of the senses
A vague expression falls on a distant lamp flame
Inside a thatch-roofed pavilion, the spring wind spends the night flipping thru a book
the Layman has nowhere to put up for the night
Rainwater gradually greening the parched branches of winter
All because this is where the feet of the spring sun enjoy taking a rest.
Old village on a bamboo-covered mountain a youth
learns how to make bamboo turtle hats from his old grandmother
attracting the colorful dancing butterflies from the other side of the old lotus pond
Dotage is basically the common expectation of millions of children
The Maiden hiding in the moonlight makes a self-confession
Magic of desire; mouth wide open, yet not speaking a word
Power of karma; like bamboo shoots following a spring rain,
an old city spread along an ancient canal
A primordial thought stretching back three thousand years
Black wind of ignorance blows up a dust storm closing off
access to the light of wisdom,
enlightened mind retires into obscurity, object-contingent mental factors fall fast asleep!
Seeds of vain imaginings born of karma each have their own factors
On a dusty bronze mirror there only remain
a few memory chips flashing in the dark
Wild vexations wantonly giving rise to notions, causing flowers of evil to bloom
disturbing sleep …
Stone raft unable to moor on the floating jetty
A secret worry appears in the unconscious
Seeing a praying mantis drag away a cicada, the Little Girl cries all night
Darkly turbid in the Wanderer’s heart
some time ago that brilliant gold flower of awakening was pilfered
Of all the myriad things clearly visible in the trichiliocosm, how is it that the rainbow hides away the
Mind of the enlightened being, willing to go anywhere in the ten directions and three times
Responding to each and every supplication yet due to
attachment and pity losing primal truth
The Scion Prince, tonight where does he hang his hat?
A stray snowflake lands on a bud just beginning to open, sunrise
becomes a teardrop falling onto the stamen
Last year a south-flying goose suddenly flew north and couldn’t find the way back
Thousand-fold spider web harassing the butterflies suspended in space
Murky who was it who cast interferon into the region of the five aggregates
stirring up someone’s network, a two-person world of guest and host
from today onwards ignorance and confusion locked in mutual pursuit
Beyond illusion there is yet more illusion; night of profound darkness, no hope of dawn
Suddenly, a piercing celestial light shoots by ─
Lighting a red stove-flame bright red
In the wink of an eye gnats and mosquitos all turn to dust
a wild fox pulls back from the sharp point of a lance
Sea of boundless aeons transforms into a newborn baby
The Traveler and the Visitor look back; happening upon that original memory.
Crescent moon obliquely hanging on top of the willow next to the lake
the further shore, as before on the further shore
Dreamlike skiff coursing thru the Dharma-realm of empty space
Without abandoning the raft, it’s not possible to go ashore
The clever Youth turns the mirror in the mirror imprinting
the footsteps of spring on the cloud-studded sky
A clepsydra kiosk in front of a cliff, dripping water constantly ringing
Under that ancient pagoda bearing a lamp, there is a 103-year-old lady
Holding a piece of batik cloth she’s made herself
highly circumspect about every snip □□□□□□□

Spring dew, infatuated with a leaf
no commitments whatsoever
Leaf distraught over the dew’s departure …
if someone in my awareness is not contaminated by illusion
then both the secret and the implicit are at ease
If someone in your mind falls not into the clutches of clambering
then both the subtle and consistent are firmly established
if someone in your heart, can shake off the yoke of karma
thus whirling in Indra’s brightly interpenetrating net
When the mind remains firmly established in bright clarity
Then the bodhi-seeds from the native place are sown in some other place
never forgetting their origin, every thought an inner pilgrimage
Mind of other-reliance established in the tranquil Lesser Full Grain
A sentient being draws the bow, outside the string there is another sharp blade
In the valley stream dragonflies put up a rainbow bridge
At dusk as the golden drum sounds 108 times in succession
I think of you, miss him, this my mind of remembrance
fully enters into ─ the eternal awe-inspiring sound on that side.
How could great compassion possibly turn away from all the suffering of sentient beings
All the worlds of the ten directions, like bubbles floating on the great sea
Similar to a cloud in the heavens
amongst gods and men, always reckoned number one
Even the tiniest of creatures have a mind all things are born of the Waking of Insects
One who would open wide the gate of expedient means
Yet Scarcely realizing the integral role of that beaming white lotus
Seal at the center of the sea, a vast wave welcomes the setting sun
Sleepwalking fairies thronging heaven and earth.

Waking of Insects (March 5), 2003
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