Dawn at the Mountain Monastery

Dawn at the Mountain Monastery 

After Chang Ch’ien

Morning, clear as a diamond, steals into the Halls of Zen;
    Over the tilted eaves dawn-sweet the larch-tops glow;
Glow the tops of the beeches, dawn-cool, dawn-golden;   —and then, 
    From the midst of the trees overbranching the low eaves, lo, 
    Dropping into the quietude, comes lonely, sweet and slow,
Lonely and slow, the boom and tinkle of the altar bell,
    Hushed and deep, to the far margin of the morn to outflow:—
Om! the Jewel is in the Lotus! . . . It is well, it is well!

As I came by the winding path from the world of men,
    I watched the birds midst the green larch-branches flit to and fro, 
Moving jewels in the air; the sweetness and the peace of Zen
    Filled them with the morning worship, in music to overflow.
    This is their paradise. The hymn they are singing I know. . . . 
Or is it from Choirs of Lohans those sweet tones swell? . . . 
    Diamond beauty of the morning, what stirs, what thrills you so?—
Om! the Jewel is in the Lotus! . . . It is well, it is well!

It is the peace of the mountain morning meditates in the Halls of Zen 
    All the valley is a monastery, over-roofed with the blue glow
Of heaven; as yonder lake are the clear hearts of the men
    Who dwell here; noon and night and the calm stars o’er them flow—
    Theirs; and the golden quiet is theirs; and the wind tiptoe
O’er the larch-tops and the beeches sings through them the spell 
    That opens the beautiful heart of the morning, murmuring low,—
“Om! the Jewel is in the Lotus! . . . It is well, it is well!”

L’Envoi:

Silence . . . And I am one with the morning beauty; returned again 
    To the Refuge; to the Heart of Things; to the Golden Place, where dwell
Peace and wisdom everlasting: I am come into the Halls of Zen; 
    Om! the Jewel is in the Lotus! . . . It is well, it is well!

The Theosophical Path, January 1920 

Li Po Addresses Meng Hao-Jan

Li Po Addresses Meng Hao-Jan

In ruddy youth you put aside 
    The gauds men set their dreams upon, 
And let who would aspire to ride 
    In high official cars, or don 
    Official head-dress ; quite foregone, 
With you, was all such vain desire; 
You set your hope and heart to aspire 
    To a loftier and a lovelier blue: 
Wherefore my soul can never tire, 
    O Mountain-Man, of honouring you! 

You took the peaks to be your guide, 
    And mountain waters far and wan; 
The moon, and midnight, starry-eyed; 
    Trees, and the autumn hues thereon. 
    You put the mountains’ beauty on, 
And made yourself as free as they 
From all that hides the Ancient Way 
    The seers of old, and sages, knew: 
Wherefore, Meng Hao-Jan, night and day 
    My soul delights to honour you ! 

And now your hair is white, betide 
    What may, or hap what will, you con 
The stars’ script still; nor pomp nor pride 
    Of courts can lure or move you; none 
    Of us that wander here and yon 
Can tell what secret splendour glows 
For you in every flower that blows 
    Among your hills, or what the dew 
And moonlight teach you; and none knows, 
    Meng Hao-Jan, how I honour you! 

The lofty mountain is descried 
From all the plain: he cannot hide 
    His grandeur from the common view. 
So shines your influence far and wide, 
    Meng Hao-Jan! All men honour you!

The Dublin Magazine, July-September 1933  

The Foam-White Stream, after Li Po

 The Foam-White Stream

After Li Po 

I came at dawn to the source of the Foam-White Stream, 
     And there on the breast of the lonely mountain lay   
Watching a thousand beautiful islands gleam 
In their green and gold, and the blue of eternal dream 
     On the world-wide waters sparkling far away.

I watched the seaward white clouds drifting sail,
     Cloud by shining cloud through the sunlit blue, 
Each swiftly aglint, as a huge and silvery whale, 
Or dragon, flashing in silvern glitter of mail
     The blue and foam of his native waters through.

My song, that was loud at noon, at dusk fell low,
     And died when the stars shone white o’er the wane of day;
And I came from the moonlit mountain, hushed and slow,
Hungry at heart for the homely lights aglow 
     Under the eaves of the cottagers, far away.

The Theosophical Path, August 1918 

Li Po Addresses Meng Hao-Jan

Li Po Addresses Meng Hao-Jan

In ruddy youth you put aside
   The gauds men set their dreams upon,
And let who would aspire to ride
   In high official cars, or don
   Official head-dress ; quite foregone,
With you, was all such vain desire;
You set your hope and heart to aspire
   To a loftier and a lovelier blue:
Wherefore my soul can never tire,
   O Mountain-Man, of honouring you!

You took the peaks to be your guide,
   And mountain waters far and wan;
The moon, and midnight, starry-eyed;
   Trees, and the autumn hues thereon.
   You put the mountains’ beauty on,
And made yourself as free as they
From all that hides the Ancient Way
   The seers of old, and sages, knew:
Wherefore, Meng Hao-Jan, night and day
   My soul delights to honour you !

And now your hair is white, betide
   What may, or hap what will, you con
The stars’ script still; nor pomp nor pride
   Of courts can lure or move you; none
   Of us that wander here and yon
Can tell what secret splendour glows
For you in every flower that blows
   Among your hills, or what the dew
And moonlight teach you; and none knows,
   Meng Hao-Jan, how I honour you!

The lofty mountain is descried
From all the plain: he cannot hide
   His grandeur from the common view.
So shines your influence far and wide,
   Meng Hao-Jan! All men honour you!

The Dublin Magazine, July-September 1933

Li Po Addresses Yuan Tan-ch’iu of East Mountain

 Kenneth Morris occasionally made beautiful illuminated manuscripts of his poems.  Here is one of "Li Po Addresses Yuan Tan-ch’iu of East Mountain."  Below it is transcription.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Li Po Addresses Yuan Tan-ch’iu of East Mountain

You dwell on Tung Shan worshiping
   Pure mountain-beauty year on year;
And sleep, o’ nights of bloom-breath’d Spring.
   Mist-quilted, mountain-pillowed, here;
   These mountain forests far and near;
These mountain flowers; this mountain dew:
   Where are there comrades half so dear?
Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

The mountain breeze, come wandering
   Through pine-woods, whispers in your ear
Mysterious tidings; the storms sing
   What news your inward god would hear.
   How should one hate or grieve or fear
Who has this Tung Shan for his true
   And private friend? O Mountaineer
Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

No waterfalls, spray-rainbowed, fling
   Their beauty down these chasms sheer,
But through your soul go passaging,.
   And with strange sweetness, cold and clear,
   Purge clean your mind of every drear
And human thought till, made anew,
   You are Mountain-Sage and Mountain-Seer—
Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

To be our Lord the Mountain’s peer,
   And know his dreamings through and through—
What joy, though all the world should jeer!
   Yuan Tan-ch’iu, how I envy you!

The Theosophical Path, November 1931

Wang Wei Praises the River Wings-of-a-Kingfisher

Wang Wei Praises the River Wings-of-a-Kingfisher

I never go down the Yellow-Chrysanthemum River
   But rocked in my boat on Wings-of-a-Kingfisher Stream
That winds between silent and people-less peaks forever
   Mirroring cloud-high bluffs where the pine-woods dream.
I trust I may never go down to the beautiful river
   But by secretly-winding Wings-of-a-Kingfisher Stream.

Through a murmurous recitative and continual pondering
   Stone-broken jargon of many-voiced waters I go;
Boat-borne, through mazy leagues in the wilderness wandering,
   By shadowy reaches where the water-chestnuts grow;
And always, from near or far, aware of the pondering
   Stone-broken jargon and recitative as I row.

I never go down to Yellow-Chrysanthemum River
   Through the still, deep reaches where greenly the reeds are glassed,
But the morning glows, and my heart and the ripples quiver
   With the peace that will dawn when the lives of the stars are passed.
I never go worshipping down to the beautiful river,
   But I know the Eternal broods where the reeds are glassed.

The Theosophical Path, November 1929