Perched on the edge ofA cloud-torn ridgeHigh in the mountainsOf ChiuhuashanA shaved-head nunSweeps alone the entranceTo her vine-covered cave
A few tufts ofWind-blown bambooThe persistent pineGrowing straight out of stoneA place so gracefulSo tough and realEven the ImmortalsFeel a shiver up the spine
She spots us ascendingThe narrow pathSets aside the broomPours water for teaAfterwardWe burn a stick of incenseLeave an offeringOn the smokyLamp-lit altar
Then follow herUp a rain-polished trailTo Moon Viewing PeakWhere the whole of ChinaIs spread at our feetI watch her point out waterfallsThat drape like silkFrom old granite cliffsAnd wonder what brought her hereSo many years ago
A poorly arranged marriageSome magnificentLoss of faceOr the simple pleasureOf living aloneIn the profound silenceOf mountains
>In the afternoonBlack clouds swirlSlowly up the valley floorA signalWe must make our way backTo busesAnd dustAnd a billion scattered souls
But before we leaveOur nun gives usGingered plumsAnd a walk throughThe gardenWhere we left herGrinningAt tiger tracks in the sand
The sound of one hand clappingClose your eyesSee through the eye in the center of your foreheadListen silentlyThe silent sound of one hand clapping is profound Accompanied by blind visionSit quietly and appreciate the experience
el8 almost 12 years ago
Blessed is he who finds happiness in his own foolishness. For he will always be happy.
~ Chade Meng ~
J Short almost 12 years ago
The specialty of the club was the “One With Everything Pizza.”
DavidGBA almost 12 years ago
If you tell a joke in an empty club, where do you get one hand from?
Digital Frog almost 12 years ago
The set of a thousand laughs begins with a single joke.
jmcx4 almost 12 years ago
Perched on the edge ofA cloud-torn ridgeHigh in the mountainsOf ChiuhuashanA shaved-head nunSweeps alone the entranceTo her vine-covered cave
A few tufts ofWind-blown bambooThe persistent pineGrowing straight out of stoneA place so gracefulSo tough and realEven the ImmortalsFeel a shiver up the spine
She spots us ascendingThe narrow pathSets aside the broomPours water for teaAfterwardWe burn a stick of incenseLeave an offeringOn the smokyLamp-lit altar
Then follow herUp a rain-polished trailTo Moon Viewing PeakWhere the whole of ChinaIs spread at our feetI watch her point out waterfallsThat drape like silkFrom old granite cliffsAnd wonder what brought her hereSo many years ago
A poorly arranged marriageSome magnificentLoss of faceOr the simple pleasureOf living aloneIn the profound silenceOf mountains
>In the afternoonBlack clouds swirlSlowly up the valley floorA signalWe must make our way backTo busesAnd dustAnd a billion scattered souls
But before we leaveOur nun gives usGingered plumsAnd a walk throughThe gardenWhere we left herGrinningAt tiger tracks in the sand
- Ching An (1851-1912)Daeder almost 12 years ago
What was the punchline of your original joke before your parents were born?
Bill reader almost 12 years ago
The sound of one hand clappingClose your eyesSee through the eye in the center of your foreheadListen silentlyThe silent sound of one hand clapping is profound Accompanied by blind visionSit quietly and appreciate the experience