Table of Contents

Book 23 Blue Diamond and Two Young Girls of Emerald
Book 24 The Retail Shop Selling 17-year-old Vexations—A gloomy vulture drifts off course
Book 25 Pump‧Magical Power of a Newborn Baby
Book 26 Supernova ─Ripe fruit falls onto the nose
Book 27 Sound of Clogs at Dawn —Children's song outside the silver mountain
Book 28 Why a Thousand Distinct Fragrances? ─Report on naked visual perception
Book 29 A Deer in the Low Grass ─ Ever grave sentient beings
Book 30 Sand-dune Leopard People Off Course ─ Extracting the empirical mind from the maze

Book 23 Blue Diamond and Two Young Girls of Emerald

Strips green
Squares suffused with red
Perplexed vision falls into the vortex of illusion
Fire engulfs the weeds of ignorance covering the hills
burning up the entangling gaudy color
At night in early summer, the south wind detains the Youth
tacit understanding in sleep accompanies a flight of fancy
Towering yurt covering the vast sea-mirror
Wind and sky combine into a filling, mysterious synthesis
Boundless wheel-cake, swallowed in a single mouthful by a dream fairy!
Little girl strokes the rachis of a mountain lily with her small hand
Buds silently draw near
to tell her about the miracle of spring,
Colors in riotous profusion performing in an open-air theater
An adult asks a child: “Do you want to see a kite today?”
The Youth tosses about
thought after yearning thought entering a dead end
Dream following in the footsteps of delusion, winding
meandering world of light and sound
See that pair of lovers sitting on one side of a stone bench
Ancient bell crouching in the sky, drum of heaven idle, resting in a cloud
Myriad phenomena drop into the mysterious iridescence of the night sky
The Drunken Guest leans on the corner of a wall all night long
Narrowed eyes chasing the moonlight, contacting a few worldly distractions in the great void
Wall presently papered over, a thousand colors concealing the true appearance
On a solitary branch, a big roc about to spread its wings
eagle frightens a sparrow hawk wandering in the mountains
Sensual pleasure inevitably infiltrated by nose and tongue
Eye and ear latch onto flavour, staining the sense of touch
Midnight, the seven emotions and the six sensory pleasures never sleep
Fall asleep, 84,000 li of mountains and rivers impressed on your heart
Who is smiling? The honored prince on the endlessly long river
Not finding that missing pearl . . .
Nodding, I tell a story
Why are their ears so captivated?
Leaving the dust, a banner-cloud stands still over the sea
a moment as firm as eternity
With the proper method, a flower petal crosses the mountain stream as easily as a cloud. . .
by virtue of the drops of water over a thousand years, the cliff disintegrates
Can't be carefree-that original vow
why is it already gone
vain imaginings smuggling desire into the sincere bright heart?
The Master Craftsman shoulders a piece of ancient wood
racking his brains to make a sail boat
Two eyebrows sweep over a white cloud, moving
You who are always pure, ever fond of going too far, sitting
Mother cuts her son’s hair, all for tomorrow’s party, thoughts arise
Empty round arena, only remaining
spectator stealthily stays behind and spends the night, mind moves.

The high-speed train startles flocks of wild geese, outside the window
visual perception confusedly skimming over the surface
Laughter and weeping are both true feelings
Wonderful thoughts enfolded into a sensitive spot between the eyebrows‧the Traveler.
Unstoppable tears dash into the nostrils
Who has passed four hundred billion eighty thousand nayuta in vain?
Thoughts of loved ones, draw into a dream that pair
of silently flying lanterns‧the Wanderer.
Thousands of strands and loose ends in your mind; how to express them?
Who is it that stirred up the murky water of the five turbidities, churning
causing that bright moon in the sky to turn dark?
Why use sunglasses to hide those beautiful eyes like a butterfly's shadow?
Below the eyebrows, truth covered by billowing spray‧the Visitor.
I am in the heart you are in the place of purpose
he is in the sea of consciousness; Who accompanies that beautiful dream?
Wake up all the images of the ten directions and three times
Rolled up by the eternal memory of the present moment‧the Vagrant.
Bodhi opening a new page, the Indian almond tree buds for the first time
Repeatedly looking around, all because of his good question
See those clever branches of the jewel trees, curving into fingers rotating flowers
red blossoms adorning white clouds,
Wisdom uses clear observation to intercept extravagent notions
like the boatman using a precious sword as a punt-pole, crossing over
billowing waves
Then abandoning the raft on the shore‧the Master of the Pavilion.
Shadow of wavering bamboo leaves sweeps the dust off the steps, clean everywhere
Ingenuous child falls into the five turbidities, the mud of desire
affection stopping in a strange expression
A pair of hands picking flowers, accidentally touching a vein
Huge sun slowly rises above the surface of the water
bursts of heat spread over the wild earth
Instantly foam flies up over the sandy shore observing
every servant in the world blocking the sky with sensual pleasure
Tonight the moon forgot to show its face
Subtle confusion follows sight and sound into the baffling river of love
Green cliff hides behind in the water curtain of the waterfall listening
countless drops of rain-pearls caressing the rock, masking the sounds of nature
Chinese wisteria from days of old chases time and silently soars on the upper margin of the bank
Who is it who established object-contingent mental factors on the sea of original nature
As a way station for vain imaginings?
Missing the childhood scent of jasmine wafting into the nostrils
In the twinkling of an eye, luring several hundred million butterflies from outside the majestic sound.
Late spring on the eastern sea; confused on the time, a cicada tries to buzz
Nameless tree laden with wild fruit
At night a group of Chinese ink bats come to perch and feed,
The Stranger returns to the hotel to explore all aspects of that locked code of the past
moonlight wrapping up safflowers, tucked into the sleeves of a rainbow.
Alone in the mountains, no conversation for several months
coals in the fire smoldering overnight
Recalling. . . . . . running away from home in childhood
drifting all over. . .
Tonight, a little girl and her grandfather
lose the way and find a place to stay for the night
three people gathering firewood
Straight thru a heavy rain
right until the stars burst forth at dawn
Every phenomena brightens after the rain,
Grandfather says to the little girl:
“Everyone gets old,
even the spotless soles of the hermit, once in a while
step on the dust of the world!”
The hermit nods, leads them down the mountain
follow the road, note the wind—
Then you’ll know, that you’ve been on the road for several dozen years.
Thought interlocking with sensual pleasure, wave upon wave rising and falling
Consciousness, becomes bunches of figs in the forest of intention.
Past seemingly acquainted with events gone by
Anxiety and worry together light a lantern and hold it up
Innumerable stars coursing through the boundless universe like
secret causes, as many as the sands of the Ganges, gestating in the sea of consciousness
The Youth, on a caprice, tries to cross over space-time to look for the story in a childhood dream
with an undisguised heart facing the lonely moonlight
Off in the distance repeated sound of a chime, an owl is there
eavesdropping on the pedestrian's heartfelt wishes at night, blue diamond and emerald
Two young girls make an appointment to meet under the plum blossom tree, illusion together with delusion
Tempestuous waves setting off shoulder to shoulder, each on a self
heel to heel, each step in hot pursuit of the next. . .
Today the nose is led by the taste
all due to habitual laxity
The sound of the wooden fish, races into the ears!
It’s said that a traveller lives in the country villa,
Daily leaning out the window with the perplexed look of a guest
Mountain valley cloud so heavy, fog so thick
which blind spot is concealing the self?
Teardrops of a young girl, falling for whom?
Who can freely ride those towering waves in the sea?
Just like dew coursing in the night sky when a flash of lightning instantly envelops everything in the universe
Attachment, it’s concerned expression on the face day and night
The cabin door opens, someone comes out
A crashing sound, the old cupboard topples over
The silent sound of the earth. . .­
Crashing sound of the closing door,
Expression of compassion, transmitted by a silent language. . .
Crashing sound of thunder,
Do both parties feel an electric shock?
Squawking sound of wood being cut by a rusty old saw
The favorite sound of an obstinate old carpenter
A line of visitors kicking stones on the road as they go
Printing 3,000 footprints on the sandy beach in one morning
Foaming surf ready to wash over, hesitating on that side
a snow crane raises the rosy clouds to welcome the sunrise
Fuzzy pieces of color moving with the train
Chaotic state of mind clambering, flowing into ignorance
The Youth’s letter home, half written
Why unfinished? the nose is sore.

Cloudy day, sunshine not released
Black clouds turn into big umbrellas
hiding that fiercely burning fire-wheel of red flame
Color of the sky—gray—gray—gray
meandering ego hidden in camouflage clothing;
Stone stairway accompanies crystal bridge,
Even if the bathing pool is spread with golden sand
The world is just the same as before
unable to bear the weight of a hundred million years.

April 14–15, 2002
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Book 24 The Retail Shop Selling 17-year-old Vexations
—A gloomy vulture drifts off course

Sphere of boundless space—
A bubble floats about on the great sea of awakening
I hide a plain screen and put on a transparent suit of armour
Inside painting the lonely moon suspended in the sky hiding
Threefold vexations, 84,000 kinds in all
Open palms‧accepting and presenting with respect
today rolled into a secret treasury in a jade-axle scroll.
Sphere of boundless consciousness, tectonic plates shifting in the sea of original nature
Immaculate thusness contaminated at the seventh level
mind of sentient beings becomes highly agitated
Microcosmic‧like a dream of lightning opening the threefold gate of the universe
Sending off and meeting, failing to recognize an old bosom friend
Asking a passerby about the return journey, slight smile.
Sphere of nothingness, murky chaos
turbid torpor
Several waves of cold and heat stir a purple skirt of thin silk
A brown cloth mended, not holding all the dust of the 3,000 worlds
Pure‧banner as big as a cloud and mountain planted on a promontory
a white crane pulls open a gleam of day.
Sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception
Surging waves roll up the tide, vexing cacophony
Seductive dance of the six desires, colored by greed, toying with the numinous pivot
Joy‧five spread fingers stamped on space
green bamboo stick stuck in the cave of ignorance
strands of defilement successively emerging from empty places.
Three doors open in the quiet city emptiness
Dripping water---dong, dong---boring a hole in the Great Resting Stalactite
It’s signless, stirring up a dreamlike shower of flowers
stretching out the feet and striding through the unhindered universe;
It’s unmade, that footprint appearing in a geometric figure
Twenty types of august Flower-treasury Worlds,
folded into the scripture of the sea of original nature
Equanimity‧an old tree chopped into 3,000 pieces
Made into a chair, boat, bed, and pillow.
I turn into a tiny speck of dust
Flying with the wind, wishing to exhaust that boundless blue wave
Thoughts‧gush out from the earth. . . . . .
Groups of still-life painters filling the sky, as many as the sands in the Ganges
all from previous existences and this life.
My trained power of transformation
after cruising, pervading
All over a vast memory. . .
Wisdom‧image of the sea of consciousness now splitting
Ascending stone steps, slipping and sliding, bamboo handrail slips away again and again
Presently wanting to view the spring sun on a green rock, instead meeting with a water curtain filling the sky.
I change into an extremely light goose feather and float into another world
red clouds thickly overlapping
Glimmering Milky Way on connected stars, cannot distinguish heaven and earth
Happiness‧ warm south wind deposits fragrant dust on the sleeve
Dreams written on the innocent faces of children, from days of old
memory arrives and moistens the fragrant road.
Self-mastery, the heart can be big or small, high or low
sporting in subtle and secret transformations see that
Small cabin with red roof tiles, fresh breeze rippling the surface of the river
Heaven and earth, a boiling kettle, a wide-open mouth snoring. . .
Crossing‧itinerant huckster of the ten directions
mountain inn with rubbings of aboriginal song and dance.
I can be the host within the host,
The bee banters the butterfly, who opens its beautiful wings and closes them up again
A boy regards the pond as a treasured mirror
Reflecting heaven, earth, sun, moon; brightness everywhere
Understanding‧forms lead, shadows bind, one unable to discriminate
Chinese ink print groping about in the dim subconscious
The muddled Youth burns a flourishing red flame, wants
to rush out of the cage of sound and form;
Heart free of obstructions, the Maiden is filled with happiness
Briskly striding down the stone steps, waving goodbye to the mountain temple.
I’m inside Indra’s net; this sinks, that comes out
neither near nor far, neither coming nor going. . .
Every genetic code
By virtue of an interstellar transmission network
enters into the subtly majestic variegated world
Tranquility ‧new leaf, ruddy and rolled up
Green blood racing through its veins,
Ripe fruit issuing from from 84,000 pores
captivating taste attracts and rejuvenates a hundred birds.
With one thought I can shake innumerable delusions
and the chaos produced from stirred mud,
Liberation bottled up by unknowing in that tacit understanding
of the culvert of time!
Quiessence‧a depression stores last night’s spring rain
Today attracting several dragonflies to play some water games
Small bridge alongside a wet bank, ten thousand strongly fragrant small flowers
Seven days of brook water continuously fragrant. . . . . .

I can walk on water and step on fire, doing as I please in space
Returning waves encounter a pallid light, painting the water round with a bamboo punt-pole
able to draw myriads of things
Heart‧using resplendent body and spirit to describe them as they are
thought arises, boundlessly responding in and out
The seeds sent from the south have already sprouted several months later
Flowered leafy branches laden with fruit
Asoka tree aroused by affectionate butterflies tickling its stamens
Delicately dancing body, lilting musical sound
One hundred birds holding flowers in their beaks perch on the crest of a green tree and sing with a resonating voice
sound reaching beyond the moon
Double-edged sword of a vajra king slices through a pekoe
Only because the eyebrow is covered with dust. □□□□□□□
Dependent co-arising‧great long wave dancing with a long green wave
Hardly realizing that the moon in the sky was once round
shadow catching light, light setting free shadow
Sun, moon, and stars gathered in the water by a thousand rivers bright
Late autumn harvest, golden yellow going into hiding
Spring Equinox sowing, jade-green rising
Quiet mountain breeze riding the rhythm of the tall bamboo
One night’s shelter, waking to a song of farewell
Time comes to the great river to look in the mirror, huge boat
huge cloud-sails raised high
Reunite after long separation, whence the teary eyes?
Rubbing, washing, kneading; ­Who is it
who rolled the spring into the spring roll?
See flowers with a heart-mind of compassion, implement the formula of self-transcendence
Picking vegetables, using pure mindfulness to bring the unruly monkey-mind under control
Bestowing fire‧on the mountain, every day at the same time
quietly waiting for that eagle's tour of inspection,
Eyes bright‧a place in the wilderness with 3,000 children competing to fly a kite.
□□□□□□□ After stepping on the peak, taking a short rest
Cloud and mist, boundless and indistinct, cover the mountaintop
Ringing of golden bell in a phantom city, circumambulating
true mind clearly depicting the real
Thoughts following thunder rolling out of the celestial drum
thousand lines of bolling hot tears,
Wheel of light searching for the window of a dream
Residual images lingering in the corridor of yesterday
Vain imaginings unfolding white feathers to fly to
the margins of the Milk Way, only seeing empty silence
Sea-sky boundless . . . below
a solitary sail drifting off in the wind, prior to daybreak
breaking through the dark frontier.
Magical tree of life,
Falling leaves piling up time
The quantum and proton both bearing a spiral
The Youth sits alone on the night train
guarding the framed image of a spiritual master
Dancer's long sleeves billowing like waves
Inside the Wheel of the Law in the black hole of ignorance
spark-like atomic particles spin
The golden key of life, inlaid on the fretwork
of the 90 million frames of the secret treasury of three points
arranged with an irregular geometric equation
Enter enter enter turn, change direction
Here the sunrise, there the falling moon.
Spindrift riding the fog, come over to explore the cliff
A golden sail sketching the contours of the moonlight
Flowing waves throwing the fresh breeze into confusion
Fallen flowers chasing the whirling billows
A mountain of clouds, boundless and indistinct, stir the far-ranging feet
Willow branches, a thousand swings dancing, unable to bear loneliness
A gloomy vulture goes off course in the sea of dreams
Who drew this picture in the sand, absurdly realistic
completing then sweeping away,
In the realm of illusion, thoughts continually rising and ceasing
now affected by trembling greed and hatred!
The Stranger in a strange land, compelled to start a fire
Potential desire, binds the Youth’s heart
silencing all sound of happy laughter.
Childhood outing, picking lotus leaves for a rain cap
Today the kettle no longer whistles
Collapsed cliff, peeling off layer by layer
The disgruntled daughter-in-law does not listen to her mother-in-law's thread of conversation
old photos passed over one at a time
reminiscing
The spell of disillusionment passes through a tulip in a dream
Conniving host and guest blame each other,
dropping into the blue net that he, you, and I ignore. . .
The aboriginal cuts the fragrant cogongrass and makes a pillow, clear and fragrant every night
In a dream stepping on a thousand lights projecting a shadow into the forest
The moonlight likes washing the green liverwort, but bright eyes stir up the dust
He again looks for dust in the wilderness
Twisting deliberation like moving water,
Circling round and welling up, ever fond of performing that odd variation
17 years old, who was that on the road of birth
opening a shop selling vexations
giving the muddled Youth some experience.
People waiting for rain, the sad teardrops of the Maiden turn into silky rain
Water waiting for fish, deviant desires like a wildly dancing flame
Before dawn greeting an abstract image of heaven and earth
Taking a handful of dirt as a souvenir, heavy with the smell of home
thick fragrance floating in on the south wind,
Under a scorching sun, a peasant in a bamboo hat hoists a shoulder pole
Baskets left and right filled with fallen violets
Under the foot wheel, the Visitor asks the old locksmith
To use a skeleton key to open an old story of the human world.

April 22, 24, and 25, 2002
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Book 25 Pump‧Magical Power of a Newborn Baby

World sea of the ten directions, meticulous . . . misplaced . . .
Flash after flash in the vast misty sky! Thunderous!
Curving coastline swallowed by the storm
Huge waves and surging billows at sea, fiercely burning flame in a mountain forest
Prosperous urban and rural areas, the ground ox turns over
now drought, now floods; the land ill at ease
An ant climbing the stone stairs dreams of being a king
Dream reverses, sea of original nature ill at ease
even the wizardly black kite circling on the horizon must land in the end
The long-distance high-speed train must eventually pull into the station
ill at ease underfoot
Sailboat freely sailing about in summer returns to port on the strength of the winter’s north wind
The last eastern wind of late spring, dyed red by all sorts of flowers
early autumn mountain top, the maple leaf first to fall greets the westerly wind
The Traveler's anxiety on the way comes from the seismograph of the land of vain imaginings
Palpitating mood like the piercing eye of a hawk
Stranded, invisible and hollow, sea of consciousness ill at ease.
Outside the phantom city, carefree fish saunter in the river of dreams
In the constellation of Pisces there is a cluster of stars, our neighbor
Mountain in the sky, pool in the sky
dazzling dance, red costumes in a white snowfield
In childhood, a huge gorgeous atlas moth
alights on a monkey-slip tree, startling all the butterfly hunters!
Strange sights and sounds permeate eye and ear, entering into the sea of consciousness and stirring the dust
Erroneous ideas are mutated seeds split off from gnosis.
An image with a numeral, heel of spring
sauntering inside a hedge frame of jade-green bamboo;
A numeral including an image, toe of summer
still sleeping in the forest library,
Sun rising in the east, wonderful high mountain
Sun setting in the west, illuminating Biefeng peak
Thoughts of sincerity and simplicity are the meeting point of past and future.
Deep and secluded valley, black and quiet; slippery palisades with a thousand meters of moss
old Chinese wisteria climbs horizontally, searching everywhere
for traces of time; always a result of the capricious mind
then moving the phantom city into the land of vain imaginings,
Conflict arises from the chaos of ignorance
Present defilement, all resulting from the sedan bearers slipping in the mud!
Dreaming, she come to the palace of the sun to look for Mercury
See that silvery-gray charcoal fire filling the sky, how is it given a new lease on life?
Beautiful forest. The subconscious is branded by the karmic forces from previous existences
like attaching a hook to a gondola and binding a cliff
There is a transverse high ladder, boundless and indistinct in the clouds and mist
Mountain peak sways. . .
A thousand flowers ask, “Who was it who stole that primeval alphabet in its entirety?
The master of Yuyuan answers:
“I see the universe hidden in the Traveler's sleeve,
bagged up for smuggling by the Lord of the Five Aggregates!”
heaven and earth call out a warning but it falls on deaf ears
Thus all of us stay confined in the city of ignorance spread over with Mara’s net
Suddenly, a wheel of moonlight appears in a thousand rivers
Spring day, croaking of a frog breaks thru the empty silence!
Polestar shining bright before dawn,
Morning like a blue maiden of the sea draping a band of red silk
swaying in a mountain of clouds.
The son of all things fumbling for something in a door with five windows, slowly
one year, 365 days; daily folding up the journal for safekeeping
Distinguishing day and night,
The battlements of an ancient city, idle for a millennium, already covered with moss and lichen.
Gorge zigzags thru a narrow seam, forming a notch
Red blanket weaves a beautiful dream, why take a binding story of perplexity as liberation?
A sad story with song and dance, even the spring breeze weeps
All Saints are silent.
River in spate, piercing rumble startles the ear
bright butterfly gets lost over the boundless sea
Making a U-turn away from rebelling
It’s possible to shake off vexations in a flash!
The mind of a newborn baby, has eight kinds of great unimpeded subjectivity.
An ancient forest aboriginals sacrificing to the mountain spirit,
An old farmer stands inside his three-section house, observing
the tung oil tree flowers spread over the steps like a summer snow
A Muller’s barbet holding a flower in its beak drops down onto a window lattice below the eaves
There is a sharp double-edged sword, its blade
a message from 2,500 years ago,
The 90-year-old Master Craftsman, now casting
a magical shield for protecting the heart-city of his little granddaughter.
Kapok flowers of early summer, raging red waves in the sky
Early morning sound of wooden clogs on a path break open an egg with a cinnabar yolk
In the east—suddenly turning into egg white bright as snow
In the west a dormant Buddha slightly opens his eyes
From a white tuft of hair between the eyebrows, the 32nd mark of a great man,
a light emerges, illuminating the palace in the Heaven of the Thirty-three.
A scroll seen by a god in a dream
in my childhood, flying in the sky, drifting about, seeking an escape
In ten fingerprints, interpenetrating nets
Power of thought racing through a silent wilderness
Forgetting not the bodhisattva heart of the newborn baby, 100% real in memory
In the twinkling of an eye that big roc inside breaks through the cloud waves in the sky
Flying up to the highest heaven; turning into a wise yi bird
sailing the non-reversing boat to explore the secret depths below the waves of consciousness
Late at night a pair of sisters solve a call-in riddle
Proud smiles turning over the bed,
Startled awake the first rays of the morning sun peeking over the mountain’s shoulder have already made a rosy sea of clouds all over the sky
Skylight above, clouds now dark, now white
streaming light, now bright, now dark. . .
A page of dreariness accompanies a leaf of vicissitudes
Old well now dry
Mesmerized by past rivers and mountains as beautiful as brocade
See those 3,000 swifts perched on a 500-meter street in Zhubei
Who is it who is so fond of seeking a position on the stage?
In the nebulous cluster, a triangular slope
heart fountain on the sea of consciousness, a steady stream, not oozing out;
In the galaxy, there is a mysterious caricature totem
a passionate flame burning in self-consciousness,
Entering a remote galaxy from the window of a dream
42 million light-years from this bank, 3,000 world-seas sport like waving banners
There is a kind of condition. . . a kind of fetter. . . a kind of idea
leading him to the ford of an ancient river,
The Traveler accidentally stirs space-time, bottling himself up.
The train of time proceeds on time
The station of birth waits for him against the clock
Chaos‧all phenomena enveloped in blackness, returning to zero
Secret‧fierce wind of the sense objects stirs up a thought wave
blazing smoke and dust subdues that green energy
Drought fruit abandoned all over the mountain
Withered rice shoots bereft of youthful vigor
Turbid gone to the weir, fish no longer saunter
Barren earth lacking vitality
The wax apple next to the wild forest has not yet bloomed,
the Heterostemma brownii on the cliff can’t climb up Real Man’s Peak,
The slick and rebellious catfish easily slips down the drain
escaping into the alley.
White clouds on four sides drill a hole into the azure sky
fine veins in the clouds interlocking,
Before building a dwelling, the ancients first dug a well
With a pump, creating a bright and beautiful native place
The old tree in the forest wants to tell him its innermost thoughts and feelings,
In the bed of a tiny slender river, the Youth binds foliage together into a sea-going boat
an illusion flowing inside a light wave,
Take a quick glance—yesterday has already become past tense
figments still wandering up and down in a frozen dream
It’s said that someone has discovered an ancient fruit
perhaps demonstrating that angiosperms appeared much earlier than ferns
Who can open the door of ten profundities, escape from the dreamlike boundless constellation sea?
See that angry tornado plunging straight into the river of virtue
. . . . . . heavy rain
The mountain forest recovers its green net
The birds and beasts play everywhere
Resplendent rosy clouds just before sunset summon stars
Fishermen going out to sea at night under the bright moon
Old men in the park tuning the antenna of an antique radio, listening to a Taiwanese folk opera,
Frogs croaking on the south side of the pond
a frog in the east has nothing to say
A person out for a walk, going this way and that
in circles
Visitor at home, in between two mirrors,
Playing with multiple images.

April 27, May 1, Birth of Summer, 2002
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Book 26 Supernova
─Ripe fruit falls onto the nose

Hanging lanterns, three nights in a row
Autumnal Equinox, golden drum has now rung 230 times
Towering ancient cypress kicks a cloud
Uneven road, take up a sharp sword that could sever a falling feather
To shave off his two white eyebrows.
The Master of the Pavilion opens the double doors to welcome a garrulous fellow
The Traveler rests under an olive tree, wings of a dream soar up
but a ripe fruit drops off and lands on his nose
─his plan dashed to pieces!
A pond of clear water, sand stirred turbid by an angry wind
Only hoping that the moon in the sky will be given back to me
There is a door of expedient means, already sealed,
For thousands of years unopened by dull mankind
Some words of truth, earlier spoken by the buddhas,
though sentient, they heard not
That ancient road lined with ten thousand charms
Where all visitors in the three times have once strolled.

Under a torrential rain in the Biefeng catchment area
dream, from the high cliffs down to the deep seabed
Then instantly swirling up to a high peak to watch the sunrise
Mountain temple sounds the morning bell 108 times
slowly removing the veil of night,
Rabbit pregnant, guessing the number of babies in its womb.
Piloting a solitary boat, all day pacing and singing in the palace of the moon on the sea of milk
Wind playing with waves sometimes quiet and sometimes noisy
... Sometimes eyes stare at the lighthouse looking for its eyes
pilot concealed in darkness, speeding on
Under a light rain, a morning lotus sticks out its head and vigorously blooms
Convergence and separation of mind and awakening, totally dependent on
The cyclic movement of three hearts, two thoughts, and one pair of bare feet.
The Wanderer once sadly wept while stargazing
Due to living far away from home heart and mind unsettled
Dearest, still the Zifangyuan of childhood
that thatched cottage with three rafters under a gentle breeze
See those clapping hands vibrating those heartstrings on stage
Ringing like digitalis
uniform bells strung together and hung on high
Who is it who added bitter and spicy to sweet and sour
So that presently the steering wheel of the original flavor is lost
yet still fond of taking the helm?
When in doubt, ask who will listen?
Mysterious axis of the earth leads the sky on patrol, counting those rows of jewel-trees
Greedy praying mantis imprisons a gnostic cicada
Early rising oriole sets free a perplexed praying mantis
Galaxy rolls up the sea of stars rotating in the junctures of heaven
The Scion Drifter, in the middle of the night
forehead lit up by the undulating moonlight
One time an epiphany, shouting ...
"Nothing missing, nothing extra; I have everything!"
Ascending a peak, attaching hook to a rope as a handrail, careless
almost tripped by the kudzu vines
Fohn of ignorance blows
underfoot stepping out three words: wrong, wrong, wrong
Mist congealing into tears, dew on the palm of a leaf
Unable to hold, new life rubbing shoulders
After holding, erased by the sunlight on that transparent feather
Early summer bee on the corner of the window sill with mud for a nest
Swallows setting up house in between the eave rafters.

Boundless sky covered by a bamboo hat,
Limitless earth worn out by a pair of shoes,
Countless rivers and mountains, by the mysterious sleeves of heaven and earth
brushed away, all things just this ephemeral
Repeatedly trembling is the turbulent spirit
Little field, home to billions of tadpoles
Fire inside charcoal, the red glow of dusk
Rolling water in a kettle, bubbles on the great sea
See those white bud-clouds sailing in the sky
Realm of dust, pervading fog bypasses the mountains.
Invigoratingly cold night, starry sky twinkling bright
Where in space does the wind originate?
Galaxy with a sailing ship easily heading south
Scarab spreads its tough wings and makes a perfect flight
A cicada posing as a specimen enters into samadhi
next to the frog pond
Old tree on the mountain breaks through the limitations of the four seasons
ordering an evergreen universe,
Cypress trees are the little treasury of the earth
Preserving the most primitive type of seed.
In the great sea of ​​eternal light
a thousand sounds and a million colors appear via delusion
Two pairs of eyes and ears in the topsy-turvy world pursue gnosis
In the palace of majestic sound, nineteen towering Chinese juniper trees
Daily waving to the drifting clouds
In front of the palace seven stunning lotuses bloom
Wondering who can penetrate
that ancient myth, exceedingly abstruse.
That golden cicada shell hung on a dry branch; where is it now?
Under the royal poinciana trees, rain
Cinnabar ink pads spread all over
Sunshine is essentially a matter pertaining to one’s own house, how is it not known?
Confusedly closing, filling an old bottle with a distant breeze
Image of life imprinted on an ancient stone wall
lit gold by the setting sun,
Loud love song sung in the country
Land spacious, people sparse call him back . . . in vain
Children's play staged in a small village
In the story, the Youth goes to battle on a bamboo horse
Layer upon layer of moonlight for makeup
black and white accentuated by stage lights
Magical story, approaching the core;
suddenly coming to the edge.
There is a self that is completely free, hidden in an invisible mountain
Frog on the pond inciting cicadas in the tree to come over to shore
Lighting a candle, how does one see the five aggregates as empty?
Slow clouds instantly lightning flashes all over
Uninhibited water foam on the sea instantly turns into a sand dome
South wind sends its fragrance to invite an old friend to meet, riding the moonlight
Core relies on periphery, moving moon draws near the clouds
A finger touches the dark green fruit of the Indian almond tree
Delicate rippling grain, directly touching my heart . . .
Pushing aside the smoke, earth-fire and spirit-flame arrange to meet in the middle of the night
Rain mud and water turn a pair of old sandals soggy
Balsam pears on a scaffold posing as lotus roots
consecutive peaks, countless waving clusters,
Empty mountain road traveled alone wanting to reminisce
yet ridiculed by time, stepping on spring, not serious
Only seeing the owl soberly hunting at night
pursuing a missing person whose figments rush about.
Who can accord with conditions, go to and move the world-sea of the ten directions without feeling anxious?
Seven heartstrings vibrate up to grade thirteen, terror
Thoughts, fall into a murky black hole as spongy as tofu
Pressure and waiting side by side
Shouting at the sea! sound like thunder
running off, disappearing
In the know; humor is just an attempt to explain things away when ridiculed
Not in the know; night rain silently massages the heart of the earth
In the sky, a pair of astute eyes, but
every day, only seeing the dust of affection and shadows
Kneading snowballs into a vast snowfield, echo
then back into balls . . . . . .
Pick up a spoon and scoop water into the river, "plop"
slowly all traces disappear.
Only the eyes of thusness can penetrate all phenomena
Clearly illuminating the myriad things.
A dusky horizon dyed drunk
rivers and lakes of the earth, farmers going home following the setting sun
today’s lovely sky, about to drop the curtain
Spirits preparing for their nightly tour of duty,
“Dong, dong, dong,” sounds the western golden drum
In the pagoda a solitary chime summons the stars
Milky Way and meteors about to perform in the excellent realm of Vandana
The clever Shepherd Boy, how does he respond?
Tonight in the millennium darkroom
Granny uses a flint to light a lamp
At that eternal house will grow the peach of immortality
It’s said that wisteria clusters give birth to a pair of colorful birds
Calling out repeatedly, voice piercing space
Three thousand miles away, thunder and lightning respond;
From here, over ten trillion li to the south
A dark red cloud system flashes out the great thunderclap of the universe.
Saluting toward the east, giant silkworms and transparent moths
golden wings, elegantly dancing in the spring breeze
Moon on the frozen river, the Youth roves on the crest of the waves
Saluting the west, waiting to hear about the fallen petals
On the eve of the rain, flying ants colliding with the light
Little sparrow impersonating Grandma of the Night, using its beak
it may have been plundered, or perhaps donated
Taking one step forward, no longer saluting
Summer in Luoyang, ten million peonies
after a silent sigh ...... all fall off ...
Hunter hiding in a lush dark forest
Wearing a mask, all day shuttling all over, back and forth
looking everywhere for the best partner, putting it on
dream costume, both invited to a contest on the top of a pyramid
Who will come to make an end of all this suffering—see
Those ten thousand kinds of feelings summoning suffering!
Uniformly extraordinary condition, buried inside an icy drumlin
The cold air flowing since time immemorial.

May 19–20, 2002
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Book 27 Sound of Clogs at Dawn
—Children's song outside the silver mountain

Golden tears, mottled bamboo; pulling a bow
Touched by the wind, jasper string and tide drum sound the five notes Who is it
who retains his lover’s terms of endearment in the acoustic labyrinth, ever so supple?
Shining twilight rays floating on the other shore
Bright and beautiful night fog turns into dewdrops hanging to the eye
Moon sinking—lonely first quarter——heaven and earth quiet
waking accompanies sleep, emotion twines around thought
The Youth of the Milky Way, fond of lingering in the time tunnel of heavenly cities and treasured butterflies. . .
but meeting with a group of divers in the sea of stars
Towering waves, disappear in the magnificent corridor of time
A red dragonfly alights on a green duckweed
Sight sweeps over that side
the Shepherd Boy is dozing off on the swing
upper arms for a pillow, in a dream
someone insistently leads him along by hand
Eve of the Lesser Full Grain, ground covered with flowers fallen from the royal poinciana trees
One who does not understand customs regards human society as stepping in the mud
Using a dry leaf as a spoon, I ladle out some strong fragrance
taking leave, traveling 100,000 li
In days of yore a sound wave was born; it still coils amongst the trees
“Have you heard?” she still asks.
“I have forgotten.”
Biting on a crisp apple
mind of a newborn baby sprouts in a dream
Torrential sunlight kisses the lapis lazuli roof tiles
Oblique rays of feathered sunlight draw out long shadows 20 years later
Who has diverted his heart, shifted his affection?
How is it that the sailboat of unshakable determination can run into a submerged reef in the sea of consciousness?
Waving banana leaves originally eager to meet the fresh breeze, whence
a thousand-foot spray making the ship rock?
Holding a luminous cup filled with tea, expecting water
why then dead drunk?
Drawing a circle on the ground, originally wanting to quietly sit here
have a rest, but for an earthquake 6.2 on the Richter scale
Old earthen wall collapses, smoke and dust all over the sky.
Sentient beings chase waves pursue waves for love
See that one-inch heart of great sorrow; how will it stop the flow?
Monk decked out strikes a pose, enlivening the virtual theater of heaven and earth
Clown goes around ridiculing the denizens of the saha world, getting a laugh,
The moon is the roundest on the Mid-autumn Festival, who is it
who is so fond of handling the moon that he has accidentally broken it!
Dark substance rides in on particulate matter
stealthily moving at night silently entering
Soul in the dream of all living things—
In an instant, sparks burst forth
Igniting the zealous seed-flame of multiple lifetimes,
What can be dyed is the grasping heart;
what can’t be dyed is the pure heart.
In the ten dimensions of the sea of consciousness, emotion and reason
gather in the city of dreams
The wisdom of object-contingent mental factors is confined to the land of delusion
Entangled in the net of right and wrong
With and against arbitrarily following sights and sounds
Shortly after being exposed to sunlight the flowers bid farewell
Desire manifests, augmenting distant longing.
The secondary rainbow does not come, drought
Dust flies all over the sky
The true feelings of the Youth race on the inexhaustible river of the spirit
Open country the sacrificial fire altar burns seven days and nights
Young girl dressed as a tailflower in a cool dance
until subdued by a downpour
On Li Mountain, a clear bright sky
Unseen because of the endless smoke and dust sheltering the eyes.
Ingenious skill, a thousand minds, ten thousand worries
all for that clever one,
Village at dawn, roosters crowing from house to house
City at night, hi-fi
vibrating windows dizzy, no resonance
Cloudy-mountain woodsman chopping firewood for cooking, then lighting charcoal for boiling tea
On Biefeng a song circulates great sea accompanied by the tide
The Shepherd Boy still catches crabs in the stream at Zhiben
From a flowery thicket flies out a red object
smile of the flowing reflection in the mountain stream
Time falls through the gap between the fingers. . . . . . little by little
Colt's shadow, looking around with deeply locked brow.
From ancient times, the pure-minded little girl has been fond of dancing
Clogs sound off in the rosy dawn woken by the sound of footsteps
yesterday the Traveler lodged overnight
Bright moon pregnant with a thousand rivers, the coming together of various conditions
Red continues to heat up in the green space of Lesser Full Grain
Fermenting the flaming phoenix's every blossom. . . ascending the heaven of highest bliss
Great sun of Renwu straight overhead
Warm wind from the south, following the light waves, coveys a thick fragrance, striking the nostrils
Last year a dead leaf fell into the rolling tidal bore of spring
then followed the waves far away, gone without a trace.
The merciless Arctic sun can’t melt the ice frozen for ten thousand years
Treacherous hazy clouds, but not a drop of rain
Scorching sun parches the earth,
Patches of pimples appear on the spacious riverbed
Sharp eyes of lightning zip across the moonlit brambles of thistles and thorns
Eagle roused from its deep slumber, fearful image remaining in the eyes.
Festival at the ancient temple, each paper lantern painted with a saha image
Lit illuminating the great trichiliocosm
A high mountain weir with 3,000 fish
A small pool with 3,000 tadpoles
Father 90 years old, fond of telling me stories from 83 years ago
worried that the current leaders don’t recognize those of the past,
My saddened heart full of ideas, making a vow. . .
Stunning red clouds like a thousand banners instantly hides the shadow of the royal poinciana trees
Childhood memory, slice of Lingshan, just like
floating in space, as it’s said in the Diamond Sutra:
“
Fumbling about on the way, the grass turns deep—
A thousand mountains strike up a song south wind sees off white cloud, a thousand li
Overhanging cliff, corridor of nine turns, summer swallows soaring high
The song of Frost Descends clips a red leaf
rabbit’s horns strange indeed
Wisteria flowers on the railing, that net of heaven and earth, fill the hazy sky
Just like that cloud of incense smoke blessing all sentient beings
The Milky Way accompanies cloud-waves, each one adhering to the Traveler’s two feet
rosy waves and billowing fog cover the bright pupil
Flowers of the tung oil tree dance a romantic ballet
After storming the palace of Mara, the army of mindfulness
returns to its original place,
The Master of the Pavilion imprints a sunken pearl on someone’s forehead as a prophecy.
The wild goose, keen to return home, flaps its long wings
Entirely without regret; the Wanderer’s soles smeared with mud
instep perspires, stepping over ten thousand li of rivers and mountains
Not finding the way back, footprints unfolding into 84,000 roads
A thousand beautiful scenes can’t obscure my old self
Existing past‧in a nebula countless stars are being born
Existing future‧from the window of illusion
a virtual universe, 20 layers beyond the heavens.
Tell me the reasons why one gets great enduring strength.”

Tumultuous sounds arbitrarily come in and go out of the ear
Kaleidoscopic images wantonly varnish the eye
Great blaze all over the mountain makes an end of green, the charcoal dust of cinder hides an arcane truth
At night, sound of a thousand noisy rivers, one hundred garrulous streams
stealthily pouring water into the sea
Red sun, the road show of the horizon, peeks out
Fantastic first rays of the feathered morning sun teases the tidewater
It is said the people over there seek out a satisfactory dream, all day
hiding in the nest, how to roam the starry sky?
All those true sights and sounds of childhood, long ago sealed off behind a mountainous wall of silvery iron
Bottle of Aquarius filled with 365 divination slips
but nobody takes notice
By virtue of a dream, making a leisurely visit to the hometown world
In an instant the bubbles of arising and ceasing produce an illusion in the unopened eyes
flame of desire forms a grade-13 storm
billowing waves of illusion crash down onto grade-9 waves
Lonely island relentlessly pounded by ruthless waves on all sides
Gloomy mood. . . falling into a deep and secluded valley thick in mist
All around visibility drops to zero.
Speculating, unfathomable depth of the sea
How to shake a little dust on Lingshan in a dream?
Someone moves the eye and shakes the blue water—
Pinching curving bow of the moon. . .
Wilderness inn at night
The mysterious Scion Drifter and the legendary Visitor invite each other to drink coffee
How can a herd of mosquitoes in a wasteland tease a violent wind in the sky?
Afternoon of the first month of summer, rumble of thunder and lightning
a line of flashing lights frightens the wits out of a child!
On the way home, 50,000 monarch butterflies fly over 2,500 kilometers
The fiercely burning expression of return in each one's eyes;
yet the aggregate of consciousness confines the spirit in the secret room of an underground palace.
The hills and mountains join forces to shoulder a bushel of fog
Great sun hanging high, who is the most elegant?
Ants building a nest in a leaf skiff, throughout the day
as the long waves rise and fall
Who vows to bear the outcome of the game, completely breaking free from the dream!
A painting with an old teapot decorated with mountains and rivers emitting
drizzly fog. . . filling the mountain with misty rain
Overlapping images . . . . . . collecting the quiet township.

May 20, 2002

== back to top ==

Book 28 Why a Thousand Distinct Fragrances?
─Report on naked visual perception

Mountains and rivers of regret—wholly becoming both sides of the universe—
Someone locks the combination lock on top of the sealed memory cabinet
Foolishly waiting for the end of the drama
taking the stage again tomorrow
Greedy audience looting rations from the actor’s backpack
Looking on detachedly, the owl enjoys the cool breeze on a midsummer night
Window drawing back the curtains of the new moon
A bevy of stars fond of playing hide and seek
The teacher makes a deep impression on the middle of the student’s forehead
transmitting a microcosm of the universe from his brow
One idiot of muddled understanding, living negligently
A single spring throws up a three thousand foot wave.
Why a thousand distinct fragrances?
Ragged clothes scattered all over the ground, a body peeled off piece by piece
A stark white, containing a report on visual perception
A wide-angle lens spying on the pupil;
Beautiful forest, left wing flying up, right side a spirit feather
stirring up images from dreams past
Flowing delusions, trespassing in that narrow and winding maze
Vertical frequency ascending and descending the ladder with lightning speed
in an instant shuttling back and forth within the reverie of the spirit,
Folded waves holding boundless potential energy
Cachet on the surface of the water transforms into a patch of mud in the city
Stationary leg of a table floating in the void
accidentally, lightly knocking against the Traveler’s ankle,
How can affection be quantified by a number of images?
Is it out of desire that one comes to know the soul of all beings?
long drought I dreamed it rained
Clouds on the ground walking ...... ‧ ......
The guest sometimes faces the high mountain and knits his brows
sometimes faces the fragrant grass and howls
Ever since that day the white snow has sealed away a glossy black cremation stupa
then the springs ran dry, charming no more
Waterfalls ceased flying, as if overcome by grief
Taxi carrying a series of tragicomedies
Strung together, quickly speeding into the past!
Outside the window daylight sketching a landscape
Gallery of heaven and earth browsing each scene
Tunnel, sharp drops of water permeate the cracks in the rocks
River bank at sunset suddenly
Shooting someone’s hand covering the sky
sunset on Biefeng, layered peaks
Thousand luxuriant mountains, stranger at the helm
Palms joined in front of chest, thrice entreating
Master still on high waving energetically
Draw a circle with ─
Me inside you outside
another soaring into space
Searching all who have a dream are bound to cut a foolish figure.
One pair of vague eyes, forcing
two eyebrows to fall into the hands of another
Sudden sound of a wooden clapper on the water, a boat
paddles out from the clumps of reeds
Tacking forward, forming
a boundless array of triangles
Soft and clear sound tugs on the ears
Smiling countenance draws in the eye
long time trying to wipe away, already past ...
On the shore, bells hung on a thirteen-storey-pagoda sounded by the wind
Distant dazzling red glow rolls up the setting sun
Floating from this side to that side, a pair of huge feet
still on the horizon
Ever-flowing time, still hovering
that dark quiet night 40 years ago
A hole appears in a dreamland cloud
Celestial bird flies out
Today the travelers under a tree, on a stone bench
retaining someone’s expression
Steamy night fog, no sight of the resplendent star cottage
East Coast, three thousand footprints suddenly appear on the golden sand.
Under a single-plank bridge a solitary boat, remote
dogvane eddies in the wind
Summer leaves extend branches
branches shake stout trunk
trunk sinks roots deep in the ground
A few pieces of ripe fruit fall off, turning into seeds
returning on the strength of a vow—
Mysterious call of the moon, old fisherman rests and then heads out again
Great sea silent, glistening waves bright and clear
long wind and drumming waves startle the river fairies
The Seafarers set out under the evening sky, wrestling the waves, chasing the
setting
sun
sailing into the horizon
Mask of time elapsed, collapsing piece by piece
Chance encounter with spirit.
Edge of the galaxy wind driving waves
waves out . . . billows in
Ungraspable plenum silence
spreading thru the empty wilderness
See those geese flying over, shadowy image captured by camera in hand
Welling mist of fog, all things appearing in the window of a dream
The rising sun paints the contours of heaven and earth
ten extended fingers combining into a distant world
After several false starts, benedictory buzz of cicadas again graces the ear
Thriving city of yesteryear now in ruins, swallows
still building nests under the old roof tiles
In the densely dappled stream
Formosan landlocked salmon frolic
The youth, bright clean mind never blank.
Park with golden shower trees arrayed in a star-chess pattern
Strings of golden-yellow flowers fluttering like a butterfly
How is it that the one who originally wanted to be a guest is now so fond of being the host?
Once walking all alone but
now accompanied by a million others
On one side the Great Resting Stalactite carved with images past, now covered with dust
Savory sweet dream still tossing, restless
See that nanny, hands on the corner of the house, pushing
a cradle with a baby fond of crying!
Stepping into confusion, stepping into delusion, idling away the time
all kinds of imaginary mountains, clouds, seas, moons
Who can return my heart of purity
to the gate of non-duality?
Flushed red petals blown into the light green sky
Cheering crowd clapping in the domain of the five aggregates
Emotional agitation tossing the boat of sense objects,
falling into deluding cascades......
Body and mind like water and milk after separating
like a celestial stream in the Milky Way
all the stars in the heavens in hot pursuit,
Eastern sea, an eternal jeweled mirror
Without wind, the waves don’t rise lucid perception
This gorgeous, that ugly, reflecting then leaving
─ drop both ends!
In days of yore Huang Chao drew his sharp sword that could sever a falling feather
up to now still unsheathed
Fallen flowers announce, "Spring is gone!"
All buds hidden inside the moon
Several times groping without recognizing.
Children kicking a shuttlecock go round a swing
one hundred thousand circles ...... around the same point
Fog slowly churning, a burst of wind, turning into vapor
Clouds brimming over, a shower of rain, turning garden moist green
fresh leaves like baskets of sleek jade
Perplexedly searching for the path
land walked over rolled up by the eyes
The west window is a favorite of lovers,
3,000 li away, someone’s yearnings entrusted to the breeze
Sunset stains eyes red ... momentary nose ache
How can the eyes below the eyebrows cross over the river of great compassion?
That night, reaching the back side of the mountain while pursuing one thousand cicadas vying to buzz
passing by mottled bamboo with golden tears,
moment of carelessness, losing the view ......
Climbing a hanging ladder above the Chinese junipers
but gathered up by a sea of stars.
Distorted dream never pausing
River of spirit never running dry
Call out to heaven hung with silk ribbons
a single mind of attachment enervates millions of people
Secondary rainbow flowing above, wondering when the spring rain will arrive
Praying for exuberant flames to burn off the flowers and grass on Lishan
Mother uses thumb to massage baby’s palm
Someone beaming with delight, a little big achievement
Ignorance can rend mountains and rivers!
Objects all real combine with delusions to make a desiccated landscape.
Pollen-like particles floating in the light of dawn
fruit of the Indian almond tree like a transparent bright emerald
Rope of mindfulness extends into the boundless space of the mind
entering and leaving through the door of emotions that does not have a firewall
You are you, I am me
Remove the carrying pole and draw a circle
inside the circle draw a small sailboat
You want to be the host, I will hide inside the myriad transformations
I want to be the host, this should go west a 108,000 li without stopping
Blow, blow, blow, mouth organ
whisper accompanies interlude in the rumbling realm of the five aggregates
Clouds brewing for six or seven days, but not two or three drops of rain
Screw cap locking in the fragrant wine,
Quietly listening flowers opening
Red flames dropping, the earth a ball of chaos
this dish of cinnabar, stamps hill, stamps water, stamps mud.
In the great sea of quiescence the waves of samsara appear not
A little foam shrinks the sea into a glorious light
In a dream, how can a massive cliff be recognized as illusion?
A mirror contains
An infinite number of realistic 3D images, a thousand-fold mountain
Swept one thousand times, without sweeping off
attachment to gain and loss
A face extends two flaming guns, shooting an intense light
Coming across the incredible soft realization "109.5 °"
Gently ... shedding a misty light rain ...
quietly ...... dousing that hot idea ......
Herewith, again attaching the very best bamboo slip!

Lesser Full Grain and May 23, 2002
== back to top ==

Book 29 A Deer in the Low Grass
─ Ever grave sentient beings

A deer in the low grass ─ running
Lightning bringing down the rain
Hunter with hands and feet stuck in quicksand
Deer gesticulates, frees the hunter, and flees!
Re-integrating memory of a sunset,
Can the sunset guess who I am?
In childhood vowing to not regret
The Traveler sets in motion a spinning top
But it accidentally goes off course,
Dusk, dream with only a few ideas remaining
wanting to roll up the golden drum sunset
Sincere flowers and grass vying for favor in the Heaven of Radiant Sound
disillusionment it’s that pair of hands pulling a bow
Shaking the desolation of an old totem.
Cold moon, deep in the mountains an ancient silent cypress.
A spring rain applies the icy shackles of late winter
In a midsummer original dream, finding
childhood photos
Mysterious letters in front of my eyes,
Who is able to net that beautiful moment
erasing thoughts just like aged agarwood?
Deep margins of the sea of consciousness, inclined flowing cage
Waves of thought peaks, piecing together green squares
Bordering billows, compiling golden farmland.
Amongst the naked myriad things there is a heart-flower illuminated by the sun and moon
Quietly blooming, yet those with good eyes say they don’t see it
Two gloriously blazing fires
unable to illuminate that upturned nose at the entrance to the mountain of the spirit.
Leaves pulsating in the living waves of light
Flower buds, bringing to fruition
the mysterious causes of a momentous future event
Seeds of delusion planted in the river of desire;
Netting turbid images, losing a vague treasure
Water entering into the belly of the sand bearing love
reinvigorating an omnipotent dream
Soaked sand emitting images, a pair of supple eyes
locked by drizzle ......
Abstruse using violet to exchange the night-born fragrance in a momentary sound
listening to the eternal sound,
Approaching emptiness rock crevices growing new grass, sentient beings vying to sow seeds.
Heaven murmured: "Why do the clouds both capture and free the birds?"
Nearby Biefeng, day and night visitors trample the dust
Mottled flakes inlaid behind the setting sun
in the aggregate of form leaving behind an exclamation of pity!
A low pressure system approaching, sunny then overcast
Aggregate of feeling flooded . . . father carries child across the river
gray splash-ink painting of the earth unwell,
Forgetting that person in last night’s dream
Aggregate of perception between the eyebrows, today powerful wind and waves
paint bucket sunk in a corner of the sea ... cold
sucking in the beautiful clear skies
Intense rain arrives, madly washing away
the Visitor’s makeshift bridge
Magical aggregate of conditioning, exhibiting the mighty flow of ignorance
Seeds of latent desire, curvetting waves whirling about
swinging swing sways a pair of sauntering eyes
Aggregate of consciousness stirs up a grade-13 storm
Everyone in the three times and ten directions
playing a virtual game that fends off typhoons!
One
dragonfly opens two pairs of transparent wings,
quietly going back home from the secret passage of time.
A miraculous web page with records of past lives
multiple dreamlike images;
primordial letters connecting the avenues of the universe
As though stored in a digital password.
In the theater of the mind-garden, 365 shows a year,
The Seafarers, 365 days a year repeat the same scene
every detail portrayed on the old stone wall of history
Five children paddle a canoe
mind of a baby free from fear,
Reclusive drifter in a self-enclosed silence
musing leaves drifting in the water ...
Freshly fragrant lilies greeting flying birds
Lesser Full Grain ‧ blue cabbage in the garden becomes green and transparent
Ruthless era, butterflies dressed in tulle dancing gracefully
A mobile double window, publicity agent of visual phenomena,
Fierce wind of desire pouring barrels of ink onto the black sky
Polaris calls out to gnosis, picks up a lapis lazuli light pen
freely applying color to the sky
City of the leopard people, using sights and sounds to acquire a childlike mind
causing the pink silence to run aground on the deep blue dome
I see them sitting cross-legged in the dew collector, those
gnats in the world-sea of the ten directions, fond of swarming around the forehead
Pure concept, arrives at the edge of primary color
Wisdom eye between the brows lights up a slender blade of fragrant grass
On top, genuine flame of samadhi shuttles back and forth in the golden dawn
Below, the seed of world transcendence
one who is able to let go of the self, enters into the boundless world
Heaven and earth enduring, wind of wisdom accompanies the bright clouds.
Ancient riparian banks, someone sketching
A meditating frog
Several tadpoles nodding
Old acorn barnacles filled with fresh flowers
A lotus leaf containing an image of spring and fall.
Subtle secret ‧ a sun plume
drawing a pair of long eyebrows on the sea
Dominant condition ‧ happiness index latent propensities retained, dreaming
Bluish green pool, bright and clear; holding dew and dust
Above, a large circular wheel rotating clouds of five colors
Spear and shield, the cosmos split into heaven and earth
Balanced circle, half wet half dry
half suffused with blue, half moist white
Audacious notion, train of thought off the rails
ignorance and confusion attached to the palace of Mara
Infighting ‧ birds many, bugs few, leaves grow well
Defending ‧ bugs many, birds few, leaves fragmentary
In no mood to sleep, waving goodbye to the setting sun, as if to say it’s not late
moonlight falls into the abyss, shadow moving in an underwater valley
inconceivable fallen flower
Whirling upwards and turning into a colorful bird ─
A dew drop of past sentiment, sealed
resplendent stamen flame within
Eyes gently locking on a fleeting expression,
A streetlight in the alley counting the traffic day and night,
Confused cave, an old toad takes the evening roll call for the new arrivals.
Sweat in the sky swirling into the homeland of the clouds
the Visitor’s mind lightly floating ... no time to rest
Misty Yushan surrounded by a sleek halo
Sun about to rise a thousand rays bloom in the east
White crane soars into the clouds, in a moment flying three thousand li
Flowers withered by the blazing sun
twilight glow filling the sky, joining day and night
Shedding ‧ for the wholeheartedness of tomorrow morning, entering into a whole new world.
Stone steps spiraling upwards, belonging
People's stories trading places across generations
Boating on a river, stirring up rippling waves
In the gateway of modesty dwells a most serious being
no more smoke rises up from the old tripartite house,
Weaving Girl of yore takes up a lantern ‧ traveling by night
Finger pulse sketching the harmony of the universe ‧ spring breeze.
Again performing an experimental fantasy play on an unfamiliar stage
Quiet sea of the mind offends the waves of emotion; shown in an old theater
old-time puppet show, silk figures behind the curtain dancing out the saha world
Duo duo duo luo luo luo ...... entering into the drama,
fooled by the performers ...... flame of enthusiasm
howling, strung along by the puppeteer
A mysterious spirit spring thrown a curving idea.
Tumultuous waves putting up white walls,
Huge waves turning into gray cliffs,
Delusions, transforming into a mischievous monster
moved by desire, stirring up trouble in the five aggregates,
Endless anxious thoughts quivering in the sea of consciousness
Perhaps a turn of mind, yet again getting the lucky number
again making a shallow fantasy hover in deep desire
such distorted images, when do they cease?
Lightning across the night sky before dawn
Dawn lighting up a flag floating in clear space
Warm breeze, foot enters thru the seam of the door
The Traveler patrols fragments of memories pieced together ...
creating a record of wandering in a field of delusion.
Youthful birds flash past the melancholy bank
The earth following the millstone of the four seasons
from white to green, from blue to red
Bees catch a sweet taste
Insects climbing from leaf to leaf
Bolt of purple lightning startles a bluebird, squeezed into a cold sweat
Inner silent factors move thru bright space
like a lotus emerging from the water in the morning sun;
Outside silent moonlight watches over the bright pool of the celestial mind
like sweet potatoes growing in the earth
Past scenes abandoned by memory
Moment of contemplation, entering
a future domain of time
The Shepherd Boy digs a well and scoops up the bright moon
into a bucket, taking it home to taste,
Invisible mystical inspiration, in the cradle of dreams
in dialogue with conscience ......
Red dust under foot filling the sky passing by
the road going home in twos and threes
Wilderness grass wondering how to hide itself
Oblique sun hanging high, who does not reveal a trace?
Confusion fond of fiddling with the kudzu vine
drilling into thorns to get a pain
Who knows that I am such a person?
What kind of nature?
There a kind of soft, warm heart
Exuding one hundred percent love and care
What is the cause of confusion?
heaven hanging a silk ribbon ─
but nostrils fall into the hands of others.
In a cloud cave, there is a hole for the moon
The old lady in the mountains prays for rain
Those old feelings, I do not know
where they moor tonight?
Countless worldly thoughts, I do not know
where they go
Sea-mirror hanging high in heaven
Lightning storm follows him, let me sleep!

June 2–3, 2002

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Book 30 Sand-dune Leopard People Off Course
─ Extracting the empirical mind from the maze

Center of an inscribed sphere, dense fog enveloping the mouth of the gorge
A crane soars upward and twirls in space
Once at the vanguard, using attachment and knowledge to discriminate images and events in the world
Yet deceived by the master of the natural world.

Center of a circumscribed circle, flowing clouds envelop a flying waterfall
Lips of the mountain gently kiss the water
Back waves practice pushing hands, daemons of emotion and affection clamber on conditions
Galaxy at night completely silent.

A secret treasury of three points; the intersection of the three imaginary medians is the median point
Following conditions and attending on feeling in the clear blue sea of substance, characteristics, and function
Searching throughout the world, conspicuous but not startling.
Someone taking a nap in a cave in the briny deep
Wondering what night it is,
a pair of cuffs lets in the wandering breeze
Walking on the mountain crest ─
Pale green mist drifting past the eyes
A pair of upturned nostrils, careless
Stopped by an arresting scent
gradually entering the deep
A few summer cicadas pulling thread, waking the guest
The guest in the master thoroughly unaffected
A year containing 365 days
One day, disturbing that person in the house.


By day butterflies flying past a façade, at night
a celestial butterfly appears in a dream
See that sea of consciousness brimming with turbulent waves; what do they mean?
Region of beguiling delusion, a stage
The actors the dazzling deep attachments on the stage of the self
imaginary drama ever repeated
White clouds obscure the mountain also blocking the rain road ...
At long last, far-ranging fishing boats follow the lighthouse back to port
Because of affection and attachment towards you, summoning sorrow and misery
Because of thinking and conceiving, disliking the old and praising the new, adding a layer of blame
The pure heart of childhood has been turned into the hindrances of knowledge and emotion
empty delusional thinking ... thoughts flowing into infinity
The Youth uses the frost on snow to subdue the raging flames of anger
Dark clouds block the sunlight and obstruct the Traveler’s pathway ...
Due to heedlessness, the Wanderer has lost the way home
Yet the Visitor catches a glimpse of the sun thru the crevices in an old stone.
Muller’s barbets side by side in a breadfruit tree, drilling nest-holes into the trunk, a cave
another cave, dancing clouds welcoming the colorful sunlight
along the way, old tree branches stretch and vie to chat with the dawn
Countless verdant mountains fly with the eyebrows, picturesque earth covered with wavering silhouettes
Overhead the two-hundred-li brilliant sky rushes into a meandering ravine of bluish green
Grain in Ear, green royal poinciana trees engulfed in red flowers
A leopard person spotted on a mountain road,
Double yellow lines no barrier for a whirlwind of Harley-Davidsons
Instantly, clear sky spins with turbulence
lovers full of sadness
Shoulder pole hung with the baskets of right and wrong, arms too sore for comfort
It’s black, it’s white, night-blooming cereus half-open half-closed
waiting on the moonlight;
This paint bucket or perhaps a crystal cup
Why is the orthodox tradition obstructed, but of such fine appearance?
Evening glow turns into wisteria hanging from that bright mirror come from heaven to visit the earth
Red clouds of heaven saunter amidst endless mountains and rivers
so far, the water still has no intention ...
Confusion and enlightenment revolving together, climbing the commanding heights of life
Suffering and happiness together circle the thousand-fold greenery, surrounded by the sea, feet wandering
Not an inn without anchor, not unfettered time
both form and formless dazzle dreaming eyes,
It’s a virtual villa, a delusional inn
Counting on the fingers extending 3000 li
also the villa of sentient beings,
He likes everything, because
of his vow that everything arise depending on him. ......
Deafening waves rush into the ear
the world of sentient beings like a rough river,
Yet insentient beings are bound by eternal silence
In the abyss of trouble, wondering
who is staying there overnight?
Bodhisattva heart, embroiled in disputes of attachment
51 stone steps toppling lie dominoes
Thoughts of commiseration spinning wildly like a top, hiding all over
Today ears flooded, waves
hearing sounds of distress but unable to come to the rescue.
Delicate heart pure and transparent, falling into the illusory net of confusion
Thoughts chasing multiple appearances of unstable traces
drawing divination slips, floating all about
Overnight dream, the miracle of training for three thousand years
Eagle’s wings hover and dive in the length and breadth of the sky
Only seeing the pointed tip of the pagoda bearing a celestial fantasy
sunshine from a golden thread passes thru a green window
Mother holding baby, eyes flashing waves of love
Father alongside eager to interpret
a future song of youth,
Central motive force of an eternal seed-flame, in the chest
now scorching, now mild ......
Lightly touching hope, permeating a bright and colorful consonance.
Who took those fresh rose petals, and threw them
into a glass bowl of boiling hot water?
Tonight the mountains perform a variation
Red flames, the wrath of nature, pinch lightning, accompanied by thunderstorm
touching an old sore spot on the earth,
Black-crowned night herons, hunting amongst the fishing nets laid out on the shoals
Delusions adept at ambushing inspiration
pulling in overflowing desires
Someone self-satisfied in a dream
walking on a minefield completely unaware,
Hometown road, has become endlessly unknown
the sad Visitor extends his cupped hands to collect tear drops
Brave seafarers piloting the sailboat of unshakable determination over the breakers on the sea of consciousness!
Rows of seven-jewel trees form an emerald screen
Royal poinciana trees laden with stamens weave a curtain of vermilion silk
... recollecting on the path of Polaris, I witness
A teenager standing on top of a wonderful peak
wielding a conductor’s baton, guiding the stars back into their cage,
Unobstructed are those visual symbols in the heavens
Frontoparietal luminous pearl, from the Youth’s shoulder pole
Obscures the zone of secret chaos, self
transcending conventions
Citadel of the mind storing childlike innocence.
The flickering flame of the stars in the night sky, stealing away people's eyes
Setting sun unable to roll up the image of the leaving Visitor
flashing hallucinations rushing into deep blackness,
Rosy clouds of dawn flap their wings, instantly the sinking sunlight puts up for the night
in the big river, pure white gauze sleeves
Spit out a flushed red cherry, boundless clearance
Opening up a cinnabar red dance,
Dream spending the night in the crevice between waking and sleeping
Green hazy paper window, chewing
that sweet and delicious taste
Dark bamboo forest spread with green traps
Falcons singing loudly
who is it
who painted the fence of the four seasons four different colors?
Country bumpkin stops over in the city
intent on being the master,
The Youth turns this story into a song and sings it everywhere
Today, ten million kinds of hometown scenes can’t be pieced into a single worry
Sincere letter written a thousand times
all given to that lonely cold light browser,
Touched by emotion, eyelids checking rebellious tears
Golden scissors of the ear faculty adjusting the gap
tongue looking for an illusory tactile sensation
Nose completely clear as to the domain of clarity and turbidity
invisible fences surround the kingdom of delusion
Black clouds setting off the vast moonlight, spit ink
gently, wanting to taste a delicious flavor, ever swallowing water
A qin touching the pulse of the fingers, cannot be idle
sky full of singing stars competing on the silvery bridge
Empty foam lacking a wind cloak
Illusory bubbles obscuring a rain canopy
Black and white stripes of day and night, shuttling and interlacing
chasing and catching each other in the expanse of space and time.
The child afraid of playing with fire is dear to the bodhisattva,
Self-awareness overcomes the magic elixir,
Sensory experience bewildered by hide-and-seek attachment
Pulled out of the maze of the sixth consciousness, drifting into a dream of fantastic dunes
Two flames burning time and space, from
distorted phenomena roaring past,
Greed, hatred, and delusion causing strife within
Cord of afflicted emotion severed on the wind-block of samadhi
river of the mind contaminated by fallen petals,
Greedy desires, speeding naked thru the sky
Storm of anger sweeps over the dark earth
Fear born of delusion makes sluggish space
of the gray region increasingly implicated
Vague realm of form throws into disorder the seven-color-spectrum ...
It’s all
delusion born of self-attachment, cleaned out
Lovely dream in a childlike heart. Don’t you see ─
there is a circle, forming an empty periphery
there are acres of fields, those plowing inside and outside all have their own fields
The Vagrant takes a nap, dreaming of the great trichiliocosm
The homesick Wanderer raises travel expenses suddenly
excited tears, because he’s been graced with a steamer ticket home
Master in the master, at the crossroads
using the light between the eyebrows
to illuminate a back-and-forth fantasy of a stranger
Everything in the world, I’ve seen it all.
On his way out, the Youth peers in the vestibule mirror to see if
today’s self recognizes yesterday's self
Ready to go, to the zenith of spirit mountain
Why suddenly six kinds of earthquake?
The Youth turns around, looking in the old bookcase
for that book which is in agreement with today's inspiration
Someone’s eyes bright with the light of love
There in the distance, an offside violin, sound chases him sailing out
Under the Stars seasick moon.

June 14, 2002
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