Zen Master Joshu

Song of the Twelve Hours of the Day1

 

The cock crows. The first hour of the day2. Aware of sadness, feeling down and out yet getting up.

There are neither underskirts nor undershirts, just something that looks a little like a robe. Underwear with the waist out, work pants in tatters, a head covered with thirty-five pounds of black grit. In such a way, wishing to practise and help people, who knows that, on the contrary, it is being a nitwit.

Sun level with the ground. The second hour of the day3. A broken-down temple in a deserted village — there’s nothing worth saying about it.

In the morning gruel there’s not a grain of rice, idly facing the open window and its dirty cracks. Only the sparrows chattering, no one to be friends with, sitting alone, now and then hearing fallen leaves hurry by. Who said that to leave home is to cut off likes and dislikes? If I think about it, before I know it there are tears moistening my hanky.

Sun up. The third hour of the day4. Purity is turning into compulsive passions.

The merit of doing something5 is to get buried in the dirt, the boundless domain has not yet been swept. Often the brows are knit, seldom is the heart content, it’s hard to put up with the wizened old men of the east village. Donations have never been brought here, an untethered donkey eats the weeds in front of my hall.

Meal time. The fourth hour of the day6.  Aimlessly working to kindle a fire and gazing at it from all sides.

Cakes and cookies ran out last year, thinking of them today and vacantly swallowing my saliva. Seldom having things together, incessantly sighing, among the many people there are no good men. Those who come here just ask to have a cup of tea10, not getting any they go off spluttering in anger.

Mid-morning. The fifth hour of the day7. Shaving my head, who would have guessed it would happen. Like this?

Nothing in particular made me ask to be a country priest, Outcast, hungry, and lonely, feeling like I could die. Mr Chang and Mr Lee8, never have they borne the slightest bit of respect for me. A while ago you happened to arrive at my gate, but only asked to borrow some tea and some paper.

The sun in the south. The sixth hour of the day9. For making the rounds to get rice and tea10 there are no special arrangements. Having gone to the houses in the south, going to the houses in the north, sure enough, all the way to the northern houses I’m given only excuses. Bitter salt, soured barley, A millet-rice paste mixed with chard. This is only to be called “not being negligent of the offering”, The Tao-mind11 of a priest has to be solidified.

Declining sun. The seventh hour of the day12. Turning things around, not walking in the domain of light and shade13.

Once I heard, “One time eating to repletion and a hundred days of starvation are forgotten,” Today my body is just this. Not studying Ch’an (Zen), not discussing principles, Spreading out these torn reeds and sleeping in the sun. You can imagine beyond Tsushita Heaven,14 but it’s not as good as this sun toasting my back.

Late afternoon. The eighth hour of the day15. And there is someone burning incense and making bows.

Of these five old ladies, three have goitre, the other two have faces black with wrinkles. Linseed tea, it’s so very rare, the two Diamond Kings15 needn’t bother flexing their muscles. I pray that next year, when the silk and barley are ripe, Rahula-ji17 will give me a word.

Sun down. The ninth hour of the day18. Except for the deserted wilderness what is there to protect?

The greatness of a monk is to flow on without any special obligations, a monk going from temple to temple has eternity. Words that go beyond the pattern do not come through the mouth, 1 iz aimlessly continuing where the sons of Shakyamuni left off. A staff of rough bramble wood; it’s not just for mountain climbing but also to chase off dogs.

Golden darkness. The tenth hour of the day19. Sitting alone in the darkness of a single empty room.

For ever unbroken by flickering candlelight, the purity in front of me is pitch black20. Not even hearing a bell21 vacantly passing the day, I hear only the noisy scurrying of old rats. What more has to be done to have feelings?22. Whatever I think is a thought of Paramita23.

Bedtime. The eleventh hour of the day24. The clear moon in front of the gate, to whom is it begrudged?

Going back inside, my only regret is that it’s time to go to sleep, besides the clothes on my back, what covers are needed? Head monk Liu, ascetic Chang, Talking of goodness with their lips, how wonderful! No matter if my empty bag25 is emptied out, if you ask about it, you’d never understand all the reasons for it.

Midnight. Twelfth hour of the day26. This feeling27, how can it cease even for a moment?

Thinking of the people in the world who have left home, it seems like I’ve been a temple priest for a long time now. A dirt bed, a torn reed mat, an old elm-block pillow without any padding. To the Holy Image28 not offering any Arabian incense29. In ashes hearing only the shitting of the ox.

1. The Chinese hour is equivalent to two western hours.

2. 1am to 3am.

3. 3am to 5am.

4. 5am to 7 am.

5. Motivated action having a goal or purpose.

6. 7am to 9am.

7. 9am to 11am.

8. These names are used like “Mr Smith” and “Mr Jones” to refer to everyone.

9. 11am to 1pm.

10. Begging.

11. Literally “mind of the Way”, refers to the mind of enlightenment.

12. 1pm to 3pm.

13. “Light and shade” also means “time”.

14. Tsushita Heaven is the abode of the Buddha of the future, Maitreya.

15. 3pm to Spm.

16. The “Diamond Kings” refer to the two demi-god kings who are the guardians of the Buddha-Dharma.

17. Rahula was one of the ten disciples of the Buddha Shakyamuni. He was especially adept in the esoteric teaching and in healing. The appellation “ji” after his name shows endearment.

18. Spm to 7pm.

19. 7pm to 9pm.

20. Literally “like the lacquer of Chin-chou (Kinshu)”.

21. Bells were rung to denote times of the day in towns and in temples.

22. The natural feelings that are inherent in being a human being.

23. Paramita here means to have crossed over to the dimension of enlightenment. Every thought is an “enlightened thought”.

24. 9pm to 11pm.

25. Refers to both a money bag and also, metaphorically, to the body.

26. The “empty bag being emptied out” refers to death.

27. 11pm to lam.

28. The state of mind of enlightenment.

29. The statue of Buddha.

30. Arabian incense was the most expensive type.

End of the Recorded Sayings of Ch’an Master Chao-chou

 

From The Recorded Sayings of Zen Master Joshu.

Translated by James Green