Perched in silence,
we listened to the whisper
of these unnamed mountains.
Altars of solitude,
hidden treasure of the South,
an austere paradise
only known to condors
and pagan gods.
Long ago, in far away lands,
I grew up admiring the stars,
dreaming of distant mountains
and smelling the fresh grass.
In the crisp winter sky,
Centaurus shone proud and high,
and in lazy warm summer days
benteveos sang to the Sun.
One day I left for the north,
who knows looking for what,
now the childhood world already lost,
my old birds and stars will not come back.
I sit prisoner of space time,
with these memories warming my heart,
under a new gentle Sun
in these new here and now.
Keep calm and composed,
and faithful to yourself.
With your ruling center clear,
a cool mind no matter the noise,
persevering along your path to sagehood.
These are self-strengthening measures.
Practice until they become a part of your nature.
In all circumstances.
And the benefits will spill over
you and the world around you.
waiting for nourishment
patient and alert
today I found myself wading turbulent waters
keeping fears at bay
expecting the unexpected
I embrace change and persevere.
learning to accept
learning to learn
I strive to turn difficulty into opportunity
a rough path bringing growth and joy
while the Sun still shines upon my inner garden.
after the mists of dawn finally vanish away
a benign sun now warms my heart
and unploughed fields lie open ahead of me
sitting at last in sovereign possession of myself
there is no more fear or confusion
there is no more treading on thin ice
and although midday has already passed for me
there are seeds to be sown
there are crops awaiting my tender care
desiring nothing more than enough
I gladly face what time is left of my day
I will calmly endure, working my fields
until the last darkness embraces me
Under a gentle sun
tree leaves flicker in the breeze,
lone clouds mirror in a silent pond,
distant hills vanish in the haze.
Timelessness amidst impermanence,
a bright serenity,
a calm understanding,
and there is no more toil or struggle,
Content with whom I am,
for a moment, I share mind with ancient sages
for a moment, wherever I am
the sun shines upon my inner garden.
(inspired by many ancient sages)
There is true literature within each of us,
but it is often too scattered.
There is true music,
but it is often drowned in noise.
Only sweeping away externals,
can we find the essential.
Rinsing away the dust,
we find our true selves.
Marcus Antoninus, inspired by Hong Zicheng [Hung Ying-Ming] (~1580)
Freely interpreted and modified from verse 57, book I, in “Vegetable Root Discourse” (Caigentan), based on a translation by R. Aitken (Counterpoint, 2006).