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    The Moon Pool

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    of its golden contents

      And its purple indicating on decease

      And unquestioning obedience to fate.

      And the pendent moon’s disc shines over it,

      Its perfectly round brow seems maize yellow

      With reflections, but when the setting sun

      Touches it with the evening glow,

      It still laughs, and does it cheerfully,

      With great enjoyment from within.

      When an early mountain breeze brushes thru

      The willows and sends its trembling leaves,

      Dancing gaily, to the very ground,

      You don’t even get your poor head around

      Whether the song of the falling leaves

      Is the song of laughter or of the farewell tears

      At the very moment of departure. From of old

      This song is merely known by the name of

      “The Charm of Early Autumn” and it sings

      About the spirit of calmness, material ripeness

      And a subtle wisdom of reaping a harvest;

      And it smiles at sadness itself and praises

      The coming day of exhilarating environment.

      47

      I'd Want

      I'd want at least a pair of clean shirts,

      As usual, with seven buttons, to start

      And finish my week safe and sound;

      But if can have only one shirt, I shall

      Not mind, either. Unlike anyone else

      I want also a good show, and I would

      Give myself up to the full enjoyment.

      But if I must go without that, I shall

      Not be too sorry. I'd want some lofty

      And shady trees in my surroundings,

      But if I cannot have them, a sapling

      In my yard will give me the same fun.

      I'd want many kids and a housewife

      Who personally prepares delicacies,

      And if I'm wealthy, then a good cook,

      And a pretty housemaid in gauzy dress

      To tend the incense while I'm writing

      Or painting in my study. Yes, I'd want

      Some intimate friends and a woman

      Who understands, ideally to be found

      In the person of my spouse; if not, then

      Maybe in one of the sing-opera divas.

      If I'm not born with 'a voluptuous luck,'

      Then I shall not be much worry, either.

      I'd want a filled belly -- rice and pickles

      Are not so costly in my region; I'd want

      A jug of good wine, but the moonshine

      Is often home-brewed, or I can pay only

      A limited cash for a bottle at a wineshop.

      I'd want leisure, and leisure I can have,

      And I'm as happy as a bird if I have met

      An old monk in a bamboo-covered grove

      To talk to him of Dharma and enjoyed

      Another of life's leisurely half-days. . .

      I'd want a secluded hut, if I can't have

      An entire pleasure garden sited amidst

      Deep mountains with the coolest spring

      Running past my hut, or in a lower vale

      Where before sunset I can saunter along

      The river bank and observe cormorants

      Catching fish for their master-fisherman.

      But if I can't have that luck and must live

      In the dusty city, I'll not be sorry, either.

      For I'd have, in any case, a cage bird and

      A few potted herbs and the moon's disc

      Shined in my tub, for I can always have

      The sole lamp of my utter enlightenment --

      A strong resolve to get the best out of life,

      A desire to enjoy what I've got at hand

      And no repentance if I fail in the end

      To start over from scratch. . . So be it.

      48

      A Song of Release

      Tonight we are going to meditate

      A full moon dazzled on the ripple

      In my little pool. How about

      Getting a painted houseboat and

      Bringing along a few musicians

      Raise a cup or two of them in a toast

      To our long collaboration, sir?

      Would you be so much kind

      As to come and spend a night with me

      At this summer solstice? Then

      I'm going to have a recluse's gown,

      And when my resignation

      Will kindly be accepted, I'll be a sole

      And carefree son of the mountains

      Who spends the rest of his lifetime

      Released and at ease. . .

      To turn the other cheek no more!

      49

      The Lamp

      Idling away my time, I seek

      For the venerable master

      Who lives amidst the misty peaks,

      A hundred of tiers upon tiers.

      The hermit points me out the way

      To return to myself;

      This moonlit night --

      A single lantern of enlightenment.

      50

      At Home

      In this life, what matter

      Is the most pitiable from all?

      It's nothing but the three paths

      That create a whole raft of faults.

      Putting learning aside, in a mist

      At the foot of the cliff I reside;

      One single piece of ragged robe --

      This is the whole my stuff.

      Once the autumn comes,

      Let it drop leaves in the thick woods;

      Then the springtime arrives,

      As you wish, to bloom up the trees.

      All the three realms I lay across to sleep,

      At leisure and carefree;

      The bright moon's disc and soft breeze --

      This is my home indeed!

      51

      My Mind

      The myriad stars spread out

      In the heavenly darkness --

      The night is deep and serene;

      The jagged cliffs are outlined

      By a solitary lamp --

      The moon's disc has not yet sunk.

      Round and full, brilliant

      And blazing -- no need to polish

      This priceless pearl which

      Hangs down in the black-blue sky

      And which is truly my mind.

      52

      In the Middle

      On the top of the age-old boulder

      The ancients left their footprints;

      On the front of the bottomless pit

      Gapes a round spot of black hollow.

      When the wheel of moon shines,

      It becomes clean and bright --

      No need to seek anyone to ask

      Where's the west and where the east.

      53

      Wild Nature

      I do enjoy my daily living amid the mist,

      Vanes, stones, streams, caves and cliffs.

      My wild nature finds a use in the wilderness;

      My constant companion is a white rack of cloud.

      There're some roads, but they don't put me thru

      To climb down to the world; I have got

      My no-minded-mind -- who can climb up

      To this level of mine? On my stone bed

      Alone I sit deep into the night while

      The moon's disc slides up toward the dawn.

      54

      Above the World

      Standing alone, I view the world

      From the top of the jagged cliffs --

      I tower above a mass of raging waves.

      Flapping in the wind, the pines trees

      Rhyme me in accord; the moon's disc rises,

      The sea tides roll in a monotone beat.

      But what is under the surface --

      Morays and dragons, a myriad of species,

      Taking turns, they gobble up each other,

      Lumping together in one gross of water-floaters.

      Below I look over the edge of bottomless aby
    ss;

      To white clouds I confide my internal thoughts.

      My wild nature fits these rocky cliffs and the sea;

      My will is to be ever matched with the elements.

      55

      The Moon's Nature

      Since your mind is not yet

      Completely exhausted,

      False thoughts still arise

      Like smoke on the water.

      The moon's nature

      Is to be clear and bright;

      Far and wide, it is shining

      With no boundaries, at all.

      56

      The Crane Song

      I take delight in my staying

      In the deep mountains;

      I wander about at leisure,

      Relying on none for support.

      Day after day I clean and purify

      My decrepit body's channels

      And think my idle thoughts --

      Here's nothing else I have to do.

      At times I unroll some

      Of my age-old scriptures,

      And frequently climb up

      To my stone altar on top.

      From there I look down

      Over a thousand feet high cliff;

      Above me -- the Celestial Lake

      Set up beyond the milky clouds.

      Cold moon is so crispy bright!

      My airy body is like that of

      A lonely flying crane which

      Hovers over my soul in circles.

      57

      Happiness

      My wild life is so precious to me!

      All seven wonders of the world --

      How can they be compared to it?

      The moon's disc faces thru the pines --

      Crisp and chilly its brightness.

      White and rosy clouds --

      Tier upon tier they arise.

      Walking around, I surmount

      A few piles of mountains;

      Making the trip back, I cover

      A certain number of miles.

      Nearby the mountain stream

      I feel myself quiet and refined;

      My joyful tarrying in this place

      Knows no end. Sh! In a quiet way

      I announce my everlasting happiness.

      58

      Man's True Nature

      My primary will

      Is to be ever matched

      With the way of naturalness;

      As being a spontaneous man,

      One obtains one's true self.

      At times I run into those who

      Shut up the source of knowledge;

      Quite often I have those with whom

      I can freely talk of Contemplation (Chan).

      Chatting of the profound values

      All the moonlit night long,

      We all agreed thereon,

      Just before sunrise.

      When the myriad controversies

      Vanish into the morning air

      Without a trace, you realise

      The original nature of Man.

      59

      The Lunar Hub

      In front of the cliff all alone

      I quietly sit -- the moon's disc

      Illumines the night surroundings.

      The myriads of shapes sink

      Into the gray of half-shades,

      Leaving absolutely nothing

      The full moon couldn't light up.

      Unbounded and straight,

      My spirit refines itself keenly;

      Hugging the hollow,

      I cave myself into Profound.

      Following the pointing out finger

      I see the bright wheel of moon --

      It is the moon wheel's hub

      Which is the pivot of my mind.

      60

      The Moonlit Mind

      Higher and higher I climb

      On the top of the peak;

      In all the four directions

      No confines I can see.

      I sit alone; there is no one

      Who could know me;

      The orphaned moon

      Reflects in the cold spring.

      But in the spring, in truth,

      It is not the moon --

      The moon sets itself

      In the black-blue skies.

      Though I have sung away

      One single song of mine,

      What's at the end of it

      Is not the essence of Chan.

      There are the rosy clouds

      Flocked around this peak:

      Still and quiet, they're cut off

      From the worldly dust and dirt.

      A seat of straw --

      That's all what I have

      At my mountain home;

      My sole lamp is the moon's wheel.

      I set my stone bed by side

      Of the emerald pond;

      Tigers, boars and deer

      Are my companions at watering.

      I truly admire the joy

      Of this secluded spot

      To be a man who stays away

      From all occurrences for long.

      61

      Rock-Steady in the End

      Amid the many-tier cliffs

      A breeze walks back and forth.

      My fire-fan is unmoved --

      The cold comes up on its own.

      The bright moon's disc shines;

      White clouds cage my body in.

      Sitting alone by myself,

      I am already an old man.

      * * * * *

      About the Author

      Alexander Goldstein, a graduate of the Far-Eastern University in Sinology, lived and worked in mainland China for a period as a translator/interpreter, a manager, and a martial arts' practitioner. A certified instructor of 'Chang-quan' (external-style boxing) and 'Taiji-quan' (internal-style boxing), he is a lecturer of Chinese culture and traditions at the Open University in Tel-Aviv. He also is the constructionist of Lao-zi's "Dao-De Jing," the commentator of "Zen (Chan) Masters' Paradoxes," "The Illustrated Canon of Chen Family Taiji-quan," a Chinese novel and some other editions, which are available in print and electronic publishing at most online retailers published in English, Spanish and Russian. What makes his books so appealing is profound analysis and authority, with which various strains of the vigorous Chinese culture are woven into a clear and useful piece of guidance for a business person who conducts the affairs with far-eastern counterparties and for a counsellor who develops strategies that enable leaders to position their organisations in the Asia-Pacific region effectively.

      ENDNOTE

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