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a week of exploring Ryokan's poetry

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Karunajoti and I have decided to spend the next 7 days exploring Ryokan's poetry. These poems are favorites of many Buddhist due to their clear dharma message, beautiful imagery, and the endearing humanity he displays time and time again. Ryokan would play with children, drink sake with friends, lose his begging bowl, spend the night watching a ray of moonlight walk across the floor of his hermitage, and fall in love with someone decades younger than him.

We've chosen the following poems to discuss:

Tuesday 7 April (translations by John Stevens)

A cold night sitting alone in my empty room
Filled only with incense smoke.
Outside, a bamboo grove of a hundred trees;
On the bed, several volumes of poetry.
The moon shines through the top of the window,
And the entire neighborhood is still except for the cry of insects.
Looking at this scene, limitless emotion
But not one word.

Wednesday 8 April (translations by Kazuaki Tanahashi)

Before listening to the way, do not fail to wash your ears.
Otherwise it will be impossible to listen clearly.
What is washing your ears?
Do not hold on to your view.
If you cling to it even a little bit,
you will lose your way.
What is similar to you but wrong, you regard as right.
What is different from you but right, you regard as wrong.
You begin with ideas of right and wrong.
But the way is not so.
Seeking answers with closed ears
is like trying to touch the ocean bottom with a pole.

Thursday 9 April (translations by John Stevens)

The rain has stopped, the clouds have drifted away,
and the weather is clear again.
If your heart is pure, then all things in your world are pure.
Abandon this fleeting world, abandon yourself,
Then the moon and flowers will guide you along the Way.

Friday 10 April (translations by John Stevens)

The night is fresh and cool -
Staff in hand, I walk through the gate.
Wisteria and ivy grow together along the winding mountain path;
Birds sing quietly in their nests and a monkey howls nearby
As I reach a high peak a village appears in the distance.
The old pines are full of poems;
I bend down for a drink of pure spring water.
There is a gentle breeze, and the round moon hangs overhead.
Standing by a deserted building,
I pretend to be a crane softly floating among the clouds

Saturday 11 April (translations by John Stevens)

Illusion and enlightenment?
Two sides of a coin.
Universals and particulars?
No difference.
All day I read the wordless sutra;
All night not a thought of Zen practice.
An uguisu sings in the willows along the river bank,
Dogs in the village bay at the moon.
There are no obstacles in my heart,
But still I lack a true companion.
(An uguisu is a Japanese nightingale)

Sunday 12 April

The vicissitudes of this world are like the movement of the clouds.
Fifty years of life are nothing but one long dream.
Sparse rain: in my desolate hermitage at night,
Quietly I clutch my robe and lean against the empty window.

Monday 13 April (translations by John Stevens)

Buddha is your mind
and the Way goes nowhere.
Don’t look for anything but this.
If you point your cart north
when you want to go south,
how will you arrive?

references
One Robe, One Bowl translations by John Stevens
Sky Above, Great Wind translations by Kazuaki Tanahashi