POETRY IN CHINESE
[The first two poems, although they were written in the Ancient Period, are preserved in a Heian collection, and are therefore given here.]
In praise of Buddha
The sun of his wisdom lights a thousand worlds;
His merciful clouds all creatures hide.
A myriad destinies are fulfilled in His love;
The voice of His law—how it strikes my heart!
The small hills
How march the four seasons in succession
Unwaywardly, from the eons past!
Grasses that greet the spring in flowered tapestry;
The summer trees curtained in leaves;
In the sad breath of autumn, the falling fruit;
Bare branches before the shrill winter wind—
When I see these seasonal things, I know
How man too must flourish and die.
Of the hills of Paradise have I heard but never seen;
Toward the land of the gods I gaze, knowing not the way.
I know only that to make a mountain
You must pile the little clods one by one.
Where then should I seek nobility?
In what delights the heart there is nothing mean.
I roof the narrow grotto in the garden end;
Lead the thin streams to flow before my hall.
