Eihei Dogen 1200-1253

Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water

-The moon does not get wet nor is the water broken.

Although its light is wide and great, 

The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.

The whole moon and the entire sky 

Are reflected in one dew drop on the grass.

Drifting pitifully in the whirlwind of birth and death,

As if wandering in a dream,

In the midst of illusion I awaken to the true path.

There is one more matter I must not neglect, 

But I need not bother now, 

As I listen to the sound of the evening rain falling on the roof of my 

Temple retreat in the deep grass of Fukakusa.

Coming, going, 

The water birds 

Don't leave a trace, 

Don't follow a path.

Amid the deepest mountain paths, the retreat  I find 

- none other than my primordial home Satori.

All last night and this morning  

-still snow falling in the deepest mountains.

Ah, to see the autumn leaves scattering in my home.

Night and day, the way of Dharma as everyday life.

In each act our hearts resonate with the call of the Sutra.

The cry of monkeys resounding from the mountain peaks 

Echoing in the valleys below 

- the sound of the Sutra being preached.

Are not even the sounds of the bustling marketplace 

the preaching of the Dharma?

Colours of the mountains, streams in the valleys, 

One in all, all in one, the voice and body of our Shakyamuni Buddha.

Everyone admires a graceful horse 

Galloping past the streaming sunlight, 

But few realize that this fleeting image 

Is itself the way of Dharma.

The four horses of suffering,

The four chariots of compassion - 

How can one find the true way without riding upon them?

The true person is not anyone in particular, 

But like the deep blue colour of the limitless sky 

It is everyone, everywhere in the world.

Contemplating the clear moon, 

Reflecting a mind empty as the open sky - 

Drawn by its beauty, 

I lose myself in the shadows it casts.

Mind has no substance that one can see - 

The only binding of the body is like the dew and frost.

Not only earthly blossoms, but this mind, 

Pure as a celestial garden of an immaculate sky, 

Offered to all the Buddhas,

Manifest here, there, and everywhere

The moon mirrored by a mind free of all distractions.

Even the waves breaking are reflecting its light.

The moon reflected

In a mind clear

As still water:

Even the waves, breaking,

Are reflecting its light.

Because the mind is free, 

listening to the rain 

Dripping from the eaves, 

The drops become one with me

In the spring, cherry blossoms,

In the summer the cuckoo,

In autumn the moon, and in

Winter the snow, clear, cold.

To what shall

I liken the world?

Moonlight, reflected

In dewdrops,

Shaken from a crane’s bill.

The true person is

Not anyone in particular;

But, like the deep blue colour

Of the limitless sky,

It is everyone, everywhere in the world.

In the stream,

Rushing past

To the dusty world,

My fleeting form

Casts no reflection.

Because the mind is free —

Listening to the rain

Dripping from the eaves,

The drops become

One with me.

The migrating bird

Leaves no trace behind

And does not need a guide.

The bridge of dreams

Floating on the brief spring night

Soon breaks off:

Now from the mountaintop a cloud

Takes leave into the open sky.

Joyful in this mountain retreat yet still feeling melancholy.

Studying the Lotus Sutra every day, 

practicing zazen single-mindedly.

What do love and hate matter when I'm here alone,

listening to the sound of the rain late in this autumn evening.

Treading along in this dreamlike, illusory realm,

Without looking for the traces I may have left;

A cuckoo’s song beckons me to return home,

Hearing this, I tilt my head to see

Who has told me to turn back;

But do not ask me where I am going,

As I travel in this limitless world,

Where every step I take is my home.