Breeze ever fresh,
moon ever bright,
not a mote of dust in bamboo grove or pine pavilion.
and ten thousand books make for even finer feelings.
Kwŏn Homun (1532-1587) passed the civil service examination when he was thirty. He resigned his position when his parents … [Read More...]
Lost my way; came to a mountain hermitage;
the people call it Puhŭng Temple.
Cranes on green pines are the sole residents here;
it’s midday but I haven’t met the monk.
A gold Buddha rests against the ancient wall;
jade lanterns gutter on bare beams.
The yard in front is extraordinarily … [Read More...]
It was snowing in March.
wet the new lilac shoots,
wet the flowering camellias.
The southern sea
still clad in winter fur
cocked an early eye.
Before I slept that night
I heard the bull seal cry.
March snow has big flakes;
It wet the pale necks
of the … [Read More...]