clouds very high look
not one word helped them get up there
It has no bridge,
yet the cloud climbs up
to heaven; it does not seek
the aid of Gautama’s
sutras.
Studying texts
and stiff meditation can
make you lose your Original Mind.
A solitary tune by a fisherman, though,
can be an invaluable treasure. Dusk rain
on the river, the moon peeking in and
out of the clouds; elegant beyond
words, he chants his songs
night after night.
Every day priests
minutely examine the dharma
and endlessly chant complicated sutras.
They should learn to read the love letters
sent by the wind and rain, the
snow and moon.