No More Learning

? 247
? Words for the Mica Screen
Unfold this screen Against the light, Show hills and streams Nature painted.
? 248
? Chungnan
Middle-aged now, following the Way. Settled at evening near the Chungnan slopes. Delight, and I wander off by myself Searching for what I need to see alone.
I climb up to the roots of the streams,
Sit and watch the White Clouds pass,
Meet the old man of the woods,
Talk and laugh, forget to go home.
? 249
? Pa Pass
At daybreak I head for Pa Pass.
Spring and I together leave Chi? ang-an.
A woman washes clothes in bright water. The birds at dawn sing in the light.
River country. Boats here are markets. Mountain bridges cling to treetops. Climbing up, a hundred villages.
In the far sun the Two Rivers.
People here speak another language,
But the birdsongi? s just like my countryi? s. Understanding the depths of landscape, Even here I am never lonely.
? 250
? Visiting the Temple
Not knowing where the temple was,
I travelled miles on hills of cloud, Through ancient pines, no good tracks, Towards bell sounds across deep gorges. Streami? s noise where rocks are high. Cool sun in fir branches.
Sit at night by the mountain pool, Seeking to reign in the Dragon.
? 251
? Going to the Temple The Ten Stages of Perception
Up through bamboo. Leave the First Stage: Pass Illusion: Go by Lotus Mountain: Through the Pass, therei? s the whole of Chi? u: Beyond the woods see the distant plain: Cross-legged on a mat of grass:
Hear scriptures in the high pine:
Reach the Void: through Clouds of Law: Meditate to achieve Nirvana.
? ? 252
? Meditation
Thin cloud. Light rain.
Far cell. Closed to noon.
Sit. Look. Green moss Becomes one with your clothes.
? 253
? The Recluse
Every way the emerald treesi? shadows. Each dayi? s green moss free of dust. Wild-haired, stretch-legged, he sits
By the high pine with half-open eyes.
? 254
? From the Mountain
Here there are others like me Sitting alone in meditation.
Look out here from the city.
All you will see is White Clouds.
? 255
? Night Hills
Rain gone. Hills are void.
Night air. Autumn now.
Bright moon in the pines.
Clear stream on the stones.
A bamboo noise n? who heads home? The lotus stirs n? who sets out? Spring scents always go.
But you n? you must always stay.
? 256
? Living by the River
Back again to this place of refuge.
No more entering the city.
Lean against a tree by the door,
Watch the distant villages below.
Green stems shining in the water,
White birds flying in the hills,
Thinking how that Man from Y ? ling Gave up the world to refresh the garden.
? 257
? Leaving Wang River
Finally decide to depart,
Sadly let go of ancient pines.
Who can see the last of Blue Hills?
Or bear to leave the Green-Water Stream?
? 258
? Passing the Temple
Tonight he walks with his light stick, Stops by the Tiger Streami? s source, Asks us to listen to the mountain sound, Goes home again by clear waters. Endless blossoms in the stillness. Bird-cries deep in the valleys.
Now hei? ll sit in empty hills.
In pine-winds, feel the touch of autumn.
? 259
? Hill Road
Ching Riveri? s rocks show white. Cold air. The sparse red leaves. Clear of rain these sky-tracks, Clothes soaked in the blue.
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? 260
? Drifting
September skies are clear to the distance Clearer still so far from human kind.
A heron by the pool, a mountain cloud, Either of them makes the mind content.
The faintest ripples still and eveningi? s here. The moon turns silver and I dream,
Tonight leaning on a single oar, Drifting without thought of going home.
? 261
? Living in the Hills
Alone, at peace, I close the door.
Shut out the skyi? s evening flame.
Cranes settle in the pines.
No one comes to try my gate.
Bamboo tender with new growth.
Red lotus shedding its old sleeves.
A light glows down by the ford.
Gathering water-chestnuts. They come home.
? 262
? The Stone Ledge
On the stone ledge above the water,
Where willow leaf-tips drink the wine.
If you say the spring breeze has no meaning, Why does it bring me all these falling flowers?
? 263
? Three Songs For Lady Pan
Fireflies flash on mica screens.
No echo in Golden Halls.
Seen through gauze the autumn night Where the lonely light shines.
Autumn grass on Palace yards.
The Emperor no longer cares to see. How much pain in clear music. They go past. The Golden Ones.
Court-ladiesi? blinds are closed. Courtyards empty. All are gone. Now they are part of spring gardens, Flowered voices in the sun.
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White silk new sliced 264
? ? Pure as fallen snow,
Cut for a round fan Bright as the full moon, Goes always by his side, Like the tender wind. But when autumn comes When cold chills fire,
It will be cast aside. Lovei? s flame will end.
265
? How Fine
I sweep the dust from ancient lines and read. Wait for the moon. Take strings and play. By Peach Blossom Spring no word of Han, By Pines whose titles date from Chi? in.
The valleyi? s empty. Who comes home? Blue evening hills grow cold.
How fine your refuge is,
Looking out to those White Clouds.
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? 266
? Mission
Alone on the road to the border, Beyond the soil won from the Hun. Ii? m blown like thistle-seed out of Han. Wild geese fly off to barren lands.
Out of the Gobi a puff of smoke.
In the long river a swollen sun.
Our patrol is on the High Pass.
Our camp is on Mount Yenjan.
? 267
? Words spoken to Pi? ei Ti
How can we break out of the net,
Be free of all this sound and dust, Swinging a thorn-branch, find the way Back to Peach Blossom Spring?
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