THE

Cid Corman

THE

WANG

WAY

(701-761)

tel-let

2000

There are 100 books

in this edition.

tel-let

325W. Tyler, Apt. B

Charleston IL 61920-1865

USA

for

those

who can follow

flow

Brother Jang don’t lack books

Reads them all living alone

Brushwork better than the Master’s

Poems make others a joke

Door shut in the foothills

Living like this for years

Like any old rustic hermit

Sometimes following fishermen to fish

Autumn winds daily more desolate

Five willows high but lean

Seeing this leaving the world

Crossing water to the hut

At year’s end clasping hands

Need only us to be

CLIMBING

The bamboo path leads up

On lotus peaks the City

From a sill the world

Above the woods the streams

On the grass monks meditate

High pines join their chants

Dwelling beyond the body clouds

They think all and: nothing

The temple still remains unknown

A long way mountain clouds

Old trees no one around

Deep slopes no bell sound

Spring sounds engulf high rock

Sun color cool green pines

Nightfall edge of a pond

Thoughtful quiet calms the worst

SUMMER

CALL

Getting on – this old man

Visiting a thoughtless meditation hall

Asking about minding’s meaning

Knowing already emptiness is empty

Mountains rivers within the eye

All is all there is

Unsurprised when the heat’s off

And wind draws upon earth

On slopes all mull all

And chant all as one

On wall seen from afar

All are are white clouds

YELLOW

RIVER

Sails on the great stream

Flux to the sky’s end

Sky and waves split now

Big town homes homes homes

Further on yet another city

Maybe mulberry and hemp some

Looking back – the old country

Water reaching clouds and mist

RETREAT

Middle aged slowly learning how

Home now South Mountain’s foot

Feeling so going there alone

The best is empty known

Walk to the water’s edge

Sitting watching the clouds rise

Come upon an old woodsman

Chatting laugh never to return

In Wei City morning rain damps dust

At travelers’ lodge green green willows fresh

Drink up yet another cup of wine

West from Yang Pass no old friends

GOOD

BYE

The Valley is too tight

How are you to go

Bird’s way a thousand leagues

Gibbon cries all day long

At the bridge wine offered

Mid mountain woods a shrine

Parting we share a moon

Maybe you hear the cuckoo

10/

FARE

WELL

All still the mountains unclouded

Far savored from the boat

Handbells pipes play going upstream

Echoing clear in fall emptiness

Country far old wall overgrown

Moon light cold flow endless

Grateful moment passing a temple

And the fishermen’s nets out

How get word to you

South wind lifts the feathers

11/

Fall sky lights a far

Far from all of us

Cranes cross the sand’s edge

And peaks clouds don’t make

Clear calm lake night near

The moon white and still

Now to trust one oar

No need yet to turn

12/

PEONY

Green green peace at rest

Red garb light gets dark

Flower heart near to break

How can spring know this

13/

ANSWERING

Nowadays best is quietness alone

Not interested in big biz

Mirror empty – no big plans

Revisiting only the old woods

Pine winds flourish – belt slack

Mountain moon sounding small strings

What is success – what failure

A fisherman singing landing now

14/

Spring pond deep and wide

Time for the vessel’s return

Slow the duckweed flows together

Willows draw them apart again

15/

Apricot wood for the beams

Fresh rushes for the roof

Clouds may yet get in

and bring rain to us

16/

DEER PARK

Vacant mountain no one seen

Hearing only the echoing voices

Light refracted filters thick woods

Getting to the mosses too

17/

DOGWOODS

Fruit borne red and green

And flowers flowering yet again

Amidst mountains with guests expected

Prepare the cups of blossoming

18/

Clear shallows – White Rock Rapids

Green reeds once within reach

Families living East and West

Silk washed by moon light

19/

Gust upon gust autumn rain

Rushing stream pouring over rocks

And the waves splash together

Egrets rise only to descend

20/

Fall hills hold light yet

Birds in flight follow others

Bright bluegreen sometimes clear

Night mist nowhere to rest

21/

One sits amidst the bamboo

Playing strings singing along loud

Growing darkness others don’t know

Moon light alone discovers all

22/

The old man no boss

Not into biznis nor pliticks

As it happened lived modestly

Amidst big old dead trees

23/

MAGNOLIAS

Trees’s edges flowers like lotus

Red cups drawn from mountains

Valley mouth but human silence

Everywhere blossoms open they spill

Fukuoji

20 October 2000

transvisions by Cid Corman

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