Anthology of Japanese Literature/Poems in Chinese by Buddhist Monks
Poems in Chinese
by Buddhist Monks
When the Japanese Zen priest Mugaku Sogen (1226–1286) was in China and threatened by invading Mongol troops, he composed a four-line poem. Years later another Zen priest, Sesson Yūbai (1290–1347), when he was in prison and threatened with death, took Mugaku’s poem and, using each line as the opening verse of a new poem, composed the following:
Through all Heaven and Earth, no ground to plant my single staff;
Yet is there a place to hide this body where no trace may be found.
At midnight will the wooden man mount his steed of stone
To crash down ten thousand walls of encircling iron.
In the nothingness of man I delight, and of all being,
A thousand worlds complete in my little cage.
I forget sin, demolish my heart, and in enlightenment rejoice;
Who tells me that the fallen suffer in Hell’s bonds?
Awful is the three-foot sword of the Great Yüan,[1]
Sparkling with cold frost over ten thousand miles.
Though the skull be dry, these eyes shall see again.
Flawless is my white gem, priceless as a kingdom.
Like lightning it flashes through the shadows, severing the spring wind;
The God of Nothingness bleeds crimson, streaming.
I tremble at the soaring heights of Mount Sumera;[2]
I will dive, I will leap into the stem of the lotus.
Song of idleness
I lay sick by the low window, propped on a crooked bed,
And thought how orderly the universe is.
A white bird flew across the dark sky;
And my mind rolled forth ten thousand feet.
To a monk departing on a trading mission to China
Judge for yourself if the weather be hot or cold;
A fellow must not be cheated by others.
And see that you take not Japan’s good gold
And barter it off for Chinese brass!
To a Korean friend
The old man of the village suddenly called us back
To drink three cups beneath the crooked mulberry.
Mankind is small but this drunkenness wide and great—
Where now is Japan, where your Korea?
Mountain temple
I have locked the gate on a thousand peaks
To live here with clouds and birds.
All day I watch the hills
As clear winds fill the bamboo door.
A supper of pine flowers,
Monk’s robes of chestnut dye—
What dream does the world hold
To lure me from these dark slopes?
Zekkai (1336–1405)