To what shall
I liken the world?
Moonlight, reflected
In dewdrops,
Shaken from a crane's bill.
***
These poems today have been translated from Dogen by Steven Heine.
Late in autumn the days are cool and clear;
In the dead of night crickets are chirping
Under the crescent moon,
The cacophony of sound echoing my mixed emotions;
Here I sit, gazing up
At the Big Dipper
Slipping off to the east,
As daylight is about to break.
***
All last night and
This morning still,
Snow falling in the deepest mountains;
Ah, to see the autumn leaves
Scattering in my home.
***
Loneliness—
The essential color of a beauty
Not to be defined:
Over the dark evergreens, the dusk
That gathers on far autumn hills.
***
A heart subdued,
Yet poignant sadness
Is so deeply felt:
A snipe flies over the marsh
As autumn dusk descends.
***
Autumn's colors dripping from branches in masses of falling leaves,
Cold clouds bringing rain into the crannies of the mountains:
Everyone was born with the same sort of eyes—
Why do mine keep seeing things as Zen koans?
***
The mountain filled with leafless trees
Crisp and clear on this autumn night;
The full moon floating gently above the cluster of roofs,
Having nothing to depend on,
And not clinging to any place;
Free, like steam rising from a full bowl of rice,
Effortless, as a fish swimming and splashing back and forth,
Like drifting clouds or flowing water.
__________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets.