At the Mountain of the Mysterious Tomb Visiting Master P'ou

One monk, you have dissolved phenomena;
the lone peak is occupied by your mystic incense.
Sutra-chanting purifies the bones of stone;
Buddha's face chills the luster of the lake.
Petals fall — you carry on the cross-legged posture;
clouds return — I recognize the lecture hall.
Deserted pond reflecting tonight's moon,
with gong and drum you bless the ancient king.
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Wu Wei-yeh
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.