Five-character Ancient Poetry
Passing Shaolin Temple, Sent to Friends and Relatives in the Capital
By Wei Yingwu (Tang Dynasty)
I stopped my carriage by the Song Mountains, and climbed a high pavilion.
The road ahead seemed to end, but upon arrival, joy extended.
I went out and listened to the myriad sounds of nature, and washed in a secluded forest spring.
The tolling bell gives rise to a Daoist heart, evening cranes are lost in mist and cloud.
Though traveling alone is pleasant, many ties still pull at me.
I think of a place to build a thatched hut, to return and rest in my old age.
Shaolin
By Yuan Haowen (Jin Dynasty)
The cloudy forest is deep and clear, the meditation room is quiet and cool.
The clear spring cleanses my worldly habits, a high-pitched cry calls for a long journey.
I do not have the fierce posture of a leopard, but I have thoughts of purple clouds.
Looking back at the mountain clouds, the spiritual fungus should be growing daily.
Inscription on the Second Patriarch's Demon-Subduing Platform
By Xu Shiming (Ming Dynasty)
A stone lotus carved by heaven, hangs isolated and precipitous.
The divine light of the Dharma eye was bright, he settled his staff and built a thatched hut.
Standing in the snow to pacify his mind, he received the robe and understood the true gatha.
Meditation accomplished, he ascended to the highest vehicle of emptiness, wild vines now obscure the platform and stele.
I went and climbed to its peak, the mortal world below seems like a small mound.
I carve this poem to record my excellent tour, may the Buddha's lamp never be extinguished.
Climbing the Demon-Subduing Platform
By Liu Dongxing
A path of a thousand-foot cliff winds upwards, a single path opens to the sky.
A stone wall lies on the cliff, said to be the Demon-Subduing Platform.
Mount Song lies horizontally to the east, the Yellow River comes from the west.
Looking up and down, how vast it is, my body and mind are chilled.
White clouds are as low as the door, the setting sun shines on the green moss.
The excellent place is left with empty traces, where is the Dharma King now?
Presented to Attendant Censor Ding Yuanfu in the Mountains
By Yang Yurun
Exiled to the south of Mount Song, the deep mountains have an unworldly feel.
The solemn gate opens by itself at times, why should one always live as a hermit?
I have seen Shaoshi several times, with its three flowers charming the woods and foothills.
Official documents are spread out under the tall pines, the official seal hangs on a deep bamboo.
The mountain monk resembles a meditating ape, the official's aide is like a tame deer.
Lifting the rosy clouds to ascend the high ridge, picking beauties in the secluded valley.
I view the ancient General Tree, and rest under the Emperor's Rest Tree.
The sound of the stone spring in the night rain, the moss on the steps is several inches green.
My Daoist spirit is naturally pure, how can I be bound by the net of dust?
The gods do not deceive the upright, leisure and reason are self-sufficient.
Sometimes people from Jiying come, to discuss matters of the heart.
Shaolin Temple
By Wang Shisong
I have long wished to visit Shaolin, and today I stay at Shaolin Temple.
Who can describe its beauty? The magnificent palace is open and spacious.
The cliffs and ravines are intertwined, cypresses and pines stand tall.
The beams line the cloudy sky, the windows are filled with green in the clearing.
The colors are beautiful on the distant mountain ranges, the plains are vast and charming.
I came and stood under the eaves, as if I had arrived from beyond the heavens.
The scent of Buddhist incense fills the air, the lamplight keeps me awake.
Holding a torch, I climbed the tiered pavilion, and deciphered the ancient characters on the stele.
I have already cut off worldly ties, how can I know the burdens of this life?
The fertile fields are full of sand and dust, I will stop my carriage here for a while.
The Wall-Gazing Stone
Floating across the river on a reed, he revealed the true meaning in China.
The mind is not a turning Dharma wheel, the meaning is not established in words.
The man who faced the wall for nine years, why was he so silent?
A shadow in the stone, adds to the meaning from the West.
Sweet Dew Terrace
Shaking my clothes, I ascend the tiered terrace, the clouds and things are lush and cool.
I look out over the vast emptiness, my eyes feast on the immensity.
The warm sun scatters over the long paths, the summer heat is vast and clear.
The white sun is beautiful on the plain, the green grass grows lushly.
My high spirits are unrestrained, my vigorous steps are pleasing to the heart.
My distant gaze finds nothing nearby, suddenly my worldly thoughts are dispelled.
I still remember the sweet dew spreading, like the palm of an immortal.
I look up and drink from the heavenly ladle, transcending the dusty world.
Inscription on the Wall-Gazing Stone
By Zhang Lun
Where the monk from the West sat cross-legged, the spiritual light left a trace.
What emotion does this stubborn thing have, that it can transmit the soulless image?
Could it be that the principle of the stone, and the light and dark dazzle each other?
The illusory becomes real, emptiness and form are not separate.
The sleeping tiger is hit by an arrow without a trace, moving mountains is also easy.
What can be said and what can be nodded, often leaves behind a plan.
The sentient is transformed into the non-sentient, this principle is vast and magnificent.
Oh, monk Bodhidharma, your Dharma power is as great as yesterday.
The reed can be used to cross the north, the shoe can be used to return to the west.
For more than nine years, his energy did not overflow.
He sat in contemplation like a corpse, and was also as firm as a stone.
Visiting Bodhidharma's Cave on Five Breast Peaks
By Cao Wenheng
Who carved out this cave of breasts? Bodhidharma cultivated here in silence.
The nest is high, close to the Big Dipper, the ancient cave spews forth clouds.
What is the method of facing the wall like? The lamp of the mind is fixed and profound.
The wonderful brightness of a thousand peaks' moon, the perfect stillness of an autumn pool.
The sacred grass is silent and green, the fragrance of peach blossoms floats in the dark.
The pearl of the nun was revealed in China, the palm-leaf scriptures know no autumn.
I have come to understand the wordless meaning, from the remaining image.
Transcending the dust is the other shore, stroking the scenery, a fleeting boat.
The imperial presence on the solitary cliff is cool, the spirit roams with the origin.
Heaven and earth are as large as a grain of rice, the clear blue is contained in a small bag.
Inscription on Bodhidharma's Wall-Gazing
By Mi Lie
After Yanzi sat and forgot, he was almost able to be frequently empty.
Practicing with effort for a long time, Zengzi obtained his school of thought.
Therefore, the secret of the mind seal is not in language.
Thus, I know the principle of wall-gazing is the same as the learning of the sages.
Visiting Shaolin, Shown to the Monk Ban
By Li Zhen
Shaolin soars, with a road reaching the Onion Range (Pamir Mountains).
For half my life I have cherished this excellent place, in my old age I get to tread this true realm.
The monks see me from afar and welcome me, with one shoulder bare and head exposed.
Climbing high, I let my gaze wander, and feel quite separated from the world.
The cattail wind flips the pages of the sutras, the color of mugwort invades my collar.
I stroke the steles of previous dynasties, the writing is extremely solemn and orderly.
The monk serves a vegetarian meal, the boy draws water from the well for me to drink.
I light a stick of pure incense myself, and bow before the ancient tripod.
The divine masters of the past were transcendent, they followed the flow and were silent like the vast sea.
And on a piece of stone, they left this indelible image.
Although India and China have different paths, they both value being able to reflect deeply.
The idle clouds allow me to sit with them, I will finish my remaining years in meditation.
First Patriarch's Hall
By Wen Ruzhang
At dawn, I climb to the First Patriarch's Hall, stepping onto the green mountain top.
The dew on the grass moistens my light clothes, man and heaven are in different realms.
The sutra niche is hidden in a forest of pearls, the incense smoke from the censer is white and long.
Before the steps, snow embraces the monk, on the wall, the stone is pierced by the shadow.
I point and knock on the gate of Zen, if it is empty, it is also clear.
Is it not that one desires the highest vehicle, but the other shore is hard to reach?
Pacing back and forth, the wind and dew arise, the summer months are cold in the deep mountains.
I will look for the road to leave, the setting sun fills my eyes.
Staying at Shaolin Temple
By Zhao Yuan
Two wheels travel over the rustling grass, down the ridge, taking a separate path.
Walking on, I find a monastery, the green peaks form a surrounding embrace.
The peaks know a guest has come, and their colors are especially good.
My travel clothes are covered in dust, I am ashamed before the old abbot.
He kindly offers a stick of incense, to clear my feverish mind.
Worldly ties are like fallen flowers, the traces are all swept away.
There is a good place in here, I regret not having come on foot earlier.
A hermitage next to the Patriarch, one day I will build a grass hut here myself.
Looking out from the Demon-Subduing Platform
By Zhou Mengyang
The Second Patriarch's precipice is already amazing, the Demon-Subduing Platform is even more outstanding.
Stone steps wind up into the clouds, the winding path is as long as a sheep's intestine.
Clinging to vines, I climb to its peak, my body enters the realm of the stars.
The four walls are as if cut, the towering precipice hinders flying birds.
Holding a cup, I look at the distant sky, and feel that the divine land is small.
The Yellow River comes from the Kunlun Mountains, passing by, it is as thin as a ditch.
There is also the flow of the Yi and Luo rivers, a vast and distant line.
The Western Flower (Mount Hua) and the Eastern Dai (Mount Tai) are like faint, smoky villages.
There is much white jade paste here, eating it makes one light and graceful.
In the early morning, like a misty shore, drinking this is rare in the world.
My ambition is to eat the rosy clouds, I sit and wait for the dawn.
Bodhidharma's Shadow Stone
By Jiao Benheng
After Master Mo crossed the river on a reed, he sat facing the wall for nine springs.
The stone reflects the image of his cross-legged posture, there is another person within it.
How is it that the envoy from the Onion Range (Pamir Mountains) met him on his westward journey with a single shoe?
His body is already an illusion, this shadow is also not real.
I ask the stone, but the stone does not speak, the mountains are empty and the water is cold.
The Wall-Gazing Stone
By Zhang E
A piece of stone in the deep mountains, stands alone in an ancient cave.
No one pays attention to it, let alone grinds and polishes it.
Who would have thought that the one from the west would imprint his superior mind on it?
Sitting cross-legged, he cut off all smoke and dust, forgetting winter and summer in his asceticism.
He observed the world and attained no-birth, his spirit was free and unrestrained.
It penetrated into this stone, recognizing the real and not the false.
His eyebrows and beard are all lifelike, as if painted with wonderful skill.
Inside, it preserves a stubborn substance, its flame of wisdom is a spiritual portal.
He only faced the wall for nine years, but his trace and shadow will shine for a thousand autumns.
How many times has the vastness of the world passed by, to come here and pay respects?
Seven-character Ancient Poetry
First Patriarch's Hall
By Xiong Jian
In the empty mountains, the moon sets and clouds are a thousand feet deep, the gate of sweet dew is deep day and night.
The thousand-year-old staff of the school is all borrowed, the reed is not a reed, the wall is not a wall.
There are tens of thousands of gaps in the lotus root of practice, only leaving the dharma image to dot the stubborn stone.
When will a sharp knife fly from my armpits, and transform into a single shoe on Bear Mountain?
Rain at Shaolin on the Ninth Day
By Wang Sunchang
The stone path is difficult to walk, the autumn rain swells the Shaoyang river.
What's more, the rain at Shaolin is even heavier, the misty mountains obscure the Five Breast Peaks.
I brave the mud and open my umbrella to knock on the pine gate, the old monk welcomes me like an old friend.
Drunk on tea and full of ferns, I gaze at the high tower, searching for Mount Goushi among the peaks in the mist.
The distant mountains embrace the round mountain, like a bhikshu outside, I don't understand the floating hill, only have it.
A piece of stone from the Liang Dynasty, has kept a thousand-year trace for nine years.
The eyebrows and beard resemble the monk who crossed the river on a reed, it's strange that the red gate is used in vain.
Who is the one standing in the snow? The person is as he is, the snow is deep.
The emperor's face once appreciated it, and with a fairy staff, he pursued it again.
The pursuit is not for the sake of strange stories, but to know the first principle from the west.
Facing the wall, I know it's not the patriarch's mind, Shenguang cutting off his arm was also too much.
All conditioned phenomena are like dew and lightning, the true emptiness is not necessarily seen in the stone.
The three flowers also have their own roots, not to mention that the Qin dynasty cypress has not changed.
Today, we climb high together, tomorrow, looking back, it will also be a dream.
Song of Watching the Monks' Martial Arts Contest at Shaolin
By Gong Zuo
The premier monastery in China is on Mount Song and Mount Shao, with more than a thousand monks, all of them heroes.
In what year did the Dharma gate of victory in battle open? The tiger army followed and participated in the elephant's teaching.
I crossed the round gate in mid-autumn, and was invited to the top in the sweet morning.
Suddenly, the green garden changed into a crowd of black-robed monks, standing tall.
Bare-chested and with rolled-up sleeves, they showed off their surplus courage, their loud voices and sharp spirits stirred up wind and thunder.
With slanted eyes, they watched for a crouched approach, they jumped forward like a frosted falcon.
As swift as a torrent rushing down, as light as an autumn leaf in a light wind.
Their high-set eyes intimidated fierce beasts, they stretched their claws and spread their wings like a soaring dragon.
Shuttling and turning, they persisted, the gibbon's arm met the turtle and rabbit's run.
Li Yang took the opportunity to land a heavy punch, Shi Long took revenge with a vicious hand.
There was also the gleam of halberds, flashing and clashing in confusion.
The wind roared, lions roared, snails trumpeted, the roof tiles shook, the shins competed by a hair's breadth.
The specialized training is passed down from ancient times, watching it from the carriage, I wanted to dance.
From the Wude period to the present day, you have also contributed to the country.
I happened to come to the first ground to listen to the sound of the tide, what is the purpose of watching troops in the Jeta Grove?
Is the staff and shout the meaning of Jiashan? Is the palm strike related to the yellow leaf heart?
Pengze brought wine to enjoy the secluded scenery, the cliffside cassia and tall phoenix trees were refreshing.
For a moment, the Buddha's... scattered empty flowers, the courtyard was full of shade and the sound of wind and springs.
Visiting Shaolin Temple
By Liu Xian
I have read the poems of the ancients, and know of Shaolin Temple.
For ten years I wanted to go but had no opportunity, today I have finally fulfilled my initial wish.
The perilous Five Breast Peaks are high and pierce the sky, their momentum is connected with Shaoshi.
The blue sky is pierced by the white stars and the Big Dipper, the windows are open to the misty mountain.
The monks are happy to see a guest and welcome me, they stand in a circle and ask me to stop my horse.
They lead me into the vast Zen gate, and I bow reverently in the Dharma hall.
Following the corridor, they guide me to see the remaining steles, pointing out each one and talking about that time.
The construction was most prosperous in the Tang and Song dynasties, I also recognize the wonderful inscriptions of Su Shi and Huang Tingjian.
In a moment, they invite me to ascend the mountain top, to view the beautiful scenery from the precipice.
By the stream, they wash their bowls and draw clear spring water, at the bottom of the ravine, they pick up pine cones to boil fragrant tea.
They say that this mountain is a high nest of the Dharma, its creation was due to the monk Batuo.
Since the Tripitaka entered China, he built a platform to translate the texts, and his contribution was great.
Later, Bodhidharma settled his staff here, and sat facing the wall for nine years.
His work done, he returned to the west with a single shoe, leaving his spiritual shadow on the mountain stone.
At that time, Huike's devotion was deep, he cut off his arm and stood in the snow to seek peace of mind.
The lamp has been passed down for thousands of years, the wonderful Dharma is still transmitted today.
The leisurely conversation was not yet over, when suddenly I heard the rustling of the pine wind.
I lingered on the layered cliffs, feeling my troubled mind become as clear as if washed.
Returning, my secluded interest was not yet exhausted, I climbed the bell tower again to gaze into the distance.
Leaning on the railing, I stood for a long time, feeling as if I were in the clouds.
To the west of the Great Hero Hall is the ancient revolving sutra repository, its gold and jade colors shine brightly opposite each other.
Under the moon, the shadow of the precious pagoda is divided, in the air, the sound of immortal music is often heard.
Alas, this beautiful mountain is truly a place to live, but my official duties are pressing, what can I do?
My whole life, my chest has been full of worldly dust, how can it all be eliminated for me?
Leaving the gate, I bid farewell to the monk, and after he has seen me off, I turn back and speak with him again.
In a future year, if an imperial edict allows me to retire to the fields, I will surely seek you out to form a lotus society.
Shaolin Journey
By Shen Wenhua
Ghosts have carved the mountain empty, the wind fills the caves, the wind from the imperial fort is high and cold jade pours down.
In the void, I don't feel the sky is low, it's as if the blue clouds are blocking my feet.
The spring water in June is cold to the skin, new sprouts burst from the stones to recommend the mountain.
Shaolin is the crown of Central China, the yellow birds' flowing sounds and the flowers' smiling valley.
If I hadn't come here to inspect the harvest, who would have carved a lotus to wash the dust from my eyes?
How can the mountain monk know the governor's heart? He mistakenly plays new tunes on the pipes and reeds.
The village elders and shepherd boys imitate my carriage, they compete to lift the curtain and talk about the local customs.
I comfort them with warm words again and again, and deeply pity my people for their poverty.
Facing the wind, I am too emotional to compose a poem, the sun sets in the deep mountains, and the sound shakes the woods.
Song of Visiting Shaolin
By Feng Shining
The strong wind blows my clothes, the mountain dew is yellow, the pines and bamboos are so dense my body is about to freeze.
Climbing the dangerous stone steps, I can't go up, I raise my head and there is still a green forest.
The distant clouds and mist lock Bodhidharma Temple, inside there is a mountain hall where gathas are spoken.
The green pines are stooping like dragons, on the stone, the seal script is like lightning characters.
The waves of the river pushed the reed-picker to come, he had trodden on the green lotus platform in the western regions.
One day he sat old on a Shaolin stone, and on the Five Breast Peaks, purple moss grew.
The autumn moon in the mountains is as bright as a mirror, the clear spring at the foot of the mountain flows endlessly.
The Zen mind is like the moon and also like the spring, the sounds of birds in the wild ravines and the clear sky.
I happened to come here for a tour, and climbed straight to the top of the mountain.
The cloudy forest is faint and as strange as a painting, as if it were the three islands and ten continents.
The sound of the wind is not heard, the immortal is already hidden, the misty clouds and the true mountain are like a shield.
I sweep the stones on a thousand cliffs to see the famous poems, the ancient characters on the green moss are like coiled earthworms.
Viewing the Tang Emperor's Edict to Shaolin Temple Stele
By Qing Jingri
The ancient steles of Shaolin are as dense as the teeth of a comb, standing high and low, each with its own substance.
Pines and cypresses shelter them and give off a secluded light, most of them are from the hands of famous people.
The most prosperous were from the Han and Tang dynasties, but they are mottled with moss and cannot be fully deciphered.
I linger under the steles, the deep walls and old trees are cold in the autumn wind.
The mountain monk points out the traces of so-and-so, I look at both the front and back of the stele.
The stone is broken and the text is incomplete, but I can understand the general meaning, I follow the lines and scrape off the moss.
In the east corridor, there is a stele standing more than a zhang tall, its warm light is thick and covers the front steps.
The ancient... is absolutely like a relic from the Three Dynasties, the seal script on the top records the year as the beginning of the Zhenguan era.
It is said that the monks of the temple once joined the army, and in the past, they helped capture Wang Shichong.
Emperor Taizong therefore praised their great achievements, and the imperial brush and ink came from the nine-layered palace.
On the south wall is carved the stele of a land grant, to this day its brilliance is comparable to tripods and bells.
I squint my eyes and read it again and again, the events of that year seem to be within my grasp.
It lavishly praises Sakyamuni as a divine sage, and speaks of gathas and mantras to honor India.
Alas!
After the Qin and Han dynasties, the Way was not transmitted, the correct learning was overgrown with weeds, and Buddhism and Daoism were promoted.
On the eastern island of Penglai, they refined the nine-dan elixir, in the western region of the lotus, they verified the three treasures.
They were especially honored and called our master, the Way of Zhou and Confucius was swept away like dirt.
Alas!
The stele at the foot of the Five Breast Peaks is immortal, but throughout the Tang dynasty, the arts of the Way became like weeds.
Even if... the disciples praise the enlightened sage, it is better to return them to nothingness.
The Third Patriarch's Hall on the Ninth Day
By Jiao Qinruo
Life is busy, and I meet a festival, the autumn scenery is refreshing, how can I bear to let it pass in vain?
I invite my companions to explore the wonders of several monasteries, the Third Patriarch's Hall is on a butterfly-like mountain path.
We leave our horses and walk slowly up the vine-covered ladder, our strength is exhausted by the rugged path.
Red cliffs stand in rows, the valley opens to the south, the scale is solemn and complete.
The low houses and tall trees cover the mountainside, the green peaks are jagged and appear and disappear.
The blue... in the sky is like a painted screen, the green and beautiful cliffs are a feast for the eyes.
The cool and distant... blows on my clothes, I pace back and forth and look around, my steps are unsteady on the grass.
We open the wine jars with great interest, talking and laughing loudly and without restraint.
There are yellow flowers in front of the courtyard, we pick a handful to go with the wine.
The wine is finished, we look at the books on the wall, the dragons and snakes are born in curves.
A happy day brings together people of the same mind, we forget our glories and declines, and our spirits are equal.
At dusk, we look back at the empty mountains, and suddenly hear the cry of an eagle, how sharp it is.
Visiting Bodhidharma's Cave, where the shadow stone was once kept, now moved to the lower hall
By Jiao Qinruo
Northwest of Shaolin are the Five Breast Peaks, their high and low momentum comes from the temple.
Passing the hall and going up the mountain, I follow the... and climb the ridge with a short staff.
The stone path winds, I push through the forest and look up, straight to the belly of the cliff.
Who carved a cave in the stone wall? In front, Shaoshi serves as a screen.
In the past, the First Patriarch faced the wall in the cave for nine years, his meaning was endless.
His spirit entered the stone and his face was visible, to this day his true image remains on the stone.
Some suspect this shadow is a fabrication, that later generations created the image to boast.
They don't know that sincerity is placed in this, the form and the stone are one and cannot be separated.
Have you not seen... the sitting rock, ...on the... a pair of cross-legged forms.
And have you not seen in Nanhua, the incorrupt body of the Sixth Patriarch still exists.
The ancient saints and buddhas often had spiritual powers, how can they be understood with ordinary thought?
I hope to climb up and gaze at the compassionate image, and I should only bow in reverence to the school's tradition.
What's more, the streams and mountains are green and lush, the misty scenery is clear and beautiful, and the myriad sounds are distant.
Looking around, I am carefree and can drink to my heart's content, if I get drunk, why not lie down on the precipice?
Five-character Regulated Verse
Attending a Banquet at Shaolin Temple by Imperial Command
By Song Zhiwen (Tang Dynasty)
The blue temple crosses the Heavenly Chamber (Peak of Mount Song), the imperial carriage points to the Emperor's Rest (Tree).
The dawn gloom clears with the rising sun, the spring air flows around the cliffs.
The empty music is more frequent than the water clock, the incense smoke is thin and drifts.
From now on, the jade paste will float, and the immortal carriage will meet Fuqiu (a Daoist immortal).
Shen Qi
I sing a long song and tour the treasured land, I linger and face the forest of pearls.
The eagle pagoda is ancient with wind and frost, the dragon pool is deep with the years.
The blue garden is clear in the evening clearing, the green hall is dark in the autumn gloom.
On the way back, the mist and clouds are late, the mountain cicadas chirp everywhere.
Visiting Shaolin Temple
By Dai Shulun
I walk the path to the monastery, and thus visit the forest of the Way.
The stone niche is covered with green moss, the fragrant path is deep with white clouds.
The twin trees hold the colors of autumn, the solitary peak rises in the evening gloom.
I have almost walked the entire sutra corridor, I turn my head and let out a long sigh.
Climbing Shaoshi Mountain Temple
By Chu Chaoyang
The flying pavilion is higher than the blue clouds, autumn alone is cool.
The flowers are reflected in the window near the moon, the cassia brushes the eaves with its fragrance.
The three peaks of Mount Hua are small, the Yellow River is a long belt.
I hear in the void the way back, where there is smoke there are weeping willows.
Visiting Shaolin Temple with Prefect Chuanming
By Bai Nanjin (Ming Dynasty)
Suddenly I come to turn the palm-leaf pages, now I face the official.
With hair, I am ultimately ashamed, without a home, I still burden others.
The platform is stained with the snow of which dynasty? The wall is left over from nine years of spring.
We are both happy about the Vulture Peak appointment, and now we know the twelve causes.
Looking at Shaolin
By Zhu Heng
On my first tour of the Luoyang region, I passed between the two chambers (Taishi and Shaoshi).
I remember the shadow on the high wall, and hear the bell of Shaolin from afar.
The old cypress is full of spring clouds, the cold pool is empty with the night moon.
I have no opportunity to accompany the wonderful tracks, perhaps we will meet on my county tour.
Shaolin Temple
By Jiang Ji
The temple was founded in ancient Shaolin, heaven opened the wonder of Taishi.
The enfeoffed cypress has forgotten the generations, the treasured pillar stabilizes the country.
The cicada shed its skin and left a shadow on the stone, the dragon returned and snow filled the pool.
The sutra-translating hall is silent, by the cliff, the dew hangs down.
Untitled
The road before the sixty-six peaks, in cool autumn I get to enjoy a leisurely tour.
The blue palace embraces the Ying River, the ravine rests on Fuqiu.
The enlightened mind is always bright, the gatha from the west can be sought.
In the empty courtyard, I watch the cranes dance, the shadow of the cypress scatters in the clear gloom.
Paying Respects to the First Patriarch
By Sun Jihuang
The clouds open over the First Patriarch's hall, I offer incense and bow at the clear chimes.
The seat is surrounded by three pure flowers, the lamp illuminates how many generations of Zen?
The mountain screen is surrounded by accumulated mist, the stone chamber flows with spring water.
I want to ask about the meaning of coming from the west, the heavenly wind blows for me.
Wall-Gazing Cave
In what year did he cross on a single reed? This cave has existed for a thousand springs.
His body left a shadow on a piece of stone, his Way is as revered as the solitary peak.
The winding steps are entered by dark clouds, the layered cliffs are overturned by ancient snow.
The coming from the west originally had no meaning, I face it and also forget to speak.
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