40
" The temple was in a field of graves
suddenly a pitiful-looking skeleton appeared
and said:
A melancholy autumn wind
Blows through the world;
the pampas grass waves
As we drift to the moor,
Drift to the sea.
What can be done
With the mind of a man
That should be clear
But though he is dressed up in a monk's robe,
Just lets life pass him by?
Such deep musings
Made me uneasy, I could not sleep.
Towards dawn
I dozed off...
I found myself surrounded
by a group of skeletons,
acting as they had
when they were
still alive.
One skeleton came over to me and said:
Memories
Flee and
Are no more.
All are empty dreams
Devoid of meaning.
Violate the reality of things
And babble about
'God' and 'the Buddha'
And you will never find
the true Way.
Still breathing,
You feel animated,
So a corpse in a field
Seems to be something
Apart from you.
If chunks of rock
Can serve as a memento
To the dead
A better headstone
Would be a simple tea-mortar.
Humans are indeed frightful things.
A single moon
Bright and clear
In an unclouded sky;
Yet we still stumble
In the world's darkness.
This world
Is but
A fleeting dream
So why be alarmed
At its evanescence?
The vagaries of life,
Though painful,
Teach us
Not to cling
To this floating world.
Why do people
Lavish decoration
On this set of bones,
Destined to disappear
Without a trace?
The original body
Must return to
Its original place.
Do not search
For what cannot be found.
No one really knows
The nature of birth
Nor the true dwelling place.
We return to the source
And turn to dust.
Many paths lead from
The foot of the mountain,
But at the peak
We all gaze at the
Single bright moon.
If at the end of our journey
There is no final
Resting place,
Then we need not fear
Losing our Way.
No beginning.
No end.
Our mind
Is born and dies;
The emptiness of emptiness!
Relax,
And the mind
Runs wild;
Control the world
And you can cast it aside.
Rain, hail, snow, and ice:
All are different
But when they fall
They become to same water
As the valley stream.
The ways of proclaiming
The Mind all vary,
But the same heavenly truth
Can be seen
In each and every one.
Cover your path
With fallen pine needles
So no one will be able
To locate your
True dwelling place.
How vain,
The endless funderals at the
Cremation grounds of Mount Toribe!
Don't the mourner realize
That they will be next?
'Life is fleeeting!'
We think at the sight
Of smoke drifting from Mount Toribe,
But when will we realize
That we are in the same boat?
All is in vain!
This morning,
A healthy friend;
This evening,
A wisp of cremation smoke.
What a pity!
Evening smoke from Mount Toribe
Blown violently
To and fro
By the wind.
When burned
We become ashes,
and earth when buried.
Is it only our sins
That remain behind?
All the sins
Committed
In the Three Worlds
Will fade away
Together with me. "
― Ikkyu
