The Moon Pool

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The Moon Pool Page 12

by Alexander Goldstein

of its golden contents

  And its purple indicating on decease

  And unquestioning obedience to fate.

  And the pendent moon’s disc shines over it,

  Its perfectly round brow seems maize yellow

  With reflections, but when the setting sun

  Touches it with the evening glow,

  It still laughs, and does it cheerfully,

  With great enjoyment from within.

  When an early mountain breeze brushes thru

  The willows and sends its trembling leaves,

  Dancing gaily, to the very ground,

  You don’t even get your poor head around

  Whether the song of the falling leaves

  Is the song of laughter or of the farewell tears

  At the very moment of departure. From of old

  This song is merely known by the name of

  “The Charm of Early Autumn” and it sings

  About the spirit of calmness, material ripeness

  And a subtle wisdom of reaping a harvest;

  And it smiles at sadness itself and praises

  The coming day of exhilarating environment.

  47

  I'd Want

  I'd want at least a pair of clean shirts,

  As usual, with seven buttons, to start

  And finish my week safe and sound;

  But if can have only one shirt, I shall

  Not mind, either. Unlike anyone else

  I want also a good show, and I would

  Give myself up to the full enjoyment.

  But if I must go without that, I shall

  Not be too sorry. I'd want some lofty

  And shady trees in my surroundings,

  But if I cannot have them, a sapling

  In my yard will give me the same fun.

  I'd want many kids and a housewife

  Who personally prepares delicacies,

  And if I'm wealthy, then a good cook,

  And a pretty housemaid in gauzy dress

  To tend the incense while I'm writing

  Or painting in my study. Yes, I'd want

  Some intimate friends and a woman

  Who understands, ideally to be found

  In the person of my spouse; if not, then

  Maybe in one of the sing-opera divas.

  If I'm not born with 'a voluptuous luck,'

  Then I shall not be much worry, either.

  I'd want a filled belly -- rice and pickles

  Are not so costly in my region; I'd want

  A jug of good wine, but the moonshine

  Is often home-brewed, or I can pay only

  A limited cash for a bottle at a wineshop.

  I'd want leisure, and leisure I can have,

  And I'm as happy as a bird if I have met

  An old monk in a bamboo-covered grove

  To talk to him of Dharma and enjoyed

  Another of life's leisurely half-days. . .

  I'd want a secluded hut, if I can't have

  An entire pleasure garden sited amidst

  Deep mountains with the coolest spring

  Running past my hut, or in a lower vale

  Where before sunset I can saunter along

  The river bank and observe cormorants

  Catching fish for their master-fisherman.

  But if I can't have that luck and must live

  In the dusty city, I'll not be sorry, either.

  For I'd have, in any case, a cage bird and

  A few potted herbs and the moon's disc

  Shined in my tub, for I can always have

  The sole lamp of my utter enlightenment --

  A strong resolve to get the best out of life,

  A desire to enjoy what I've got at hand

  And no repentance if I fail in the end

  To start over from scratch. . . So be it.

  48

  A Song of Release

  Tonight we are going to meditate

  A full moon dazzled on the ripple

  In my little pool. How about

  Getting a painted houseboat and

  Bringing along a few musicians

  Raise a cup or two of them in a toast

  To our long collaboration, sir?

  Would you be so much kind

  As to come and spend a night with me

  At this summer solstice? Then

  I'm going to have a recluse's gown,

  And when my resignation

  Will kindly be accepted, I'll be a sole

  And carefree son of the mountains

  Who spends the rest of his lifetime

  Released and at ease. . .

  To turn the other cheek no more!

  49

  The Lamp

  Idling away my time, I seek

  For the venerable master

  Who lives amidst the misty peaks,

  A hundred of tiers upon tiers.

  The hermit points me out the way

  To return to myself;

  This moonlit night --

  A single lantern of enlightenment.

  50

  At Home

  In this life, what matter

  Is the most pitiable from all?

  It's nothing but the three paths

  That create a whole raft of faults.

  Putting learning aside, in a mist

  At the foot of the cliff I reside;

  One single piece of ragged robe --

  This is the whole my stuff.

  Once the autumn comes,

  Let it drop leaves in the thick woods;

  Then the springtime arrives,

  As you wish, to bloom up the trees.

  All the three realms I lay across to sleep,

  At leisure and carefree;

  The bright moon's disc and soft breeze --

  This is my home indeed!

  51

  My Mind

  The myriad stars spread out

  In the heavenly darkness --

  The night is deep and serene;

  The jagged cliffs are outlined

  By a solitary lamp --

  The moon's disc has not yet sunk.

  Round and full, brilliant

  And blazing -- no need to polish

  This priceless pearl which

  Hangs down in the black-blue sky

  And which is truly my mind.

  52

  In the Middle

  On the top of the age-old boulder

  The ancients left their footprints;

  On the front of the bottomless pit

  Gapes a round spot of black hollow.

  When the wheel of moon shines,

  It becomes clean and bright --

  No need to seek anyone to ask

  Where's the west and where the east.

  53

  Wild Nature

  I do enjoy my daily living amid the mist,

  Vanes, stones, streams, caves and cliffs.

  My wild nature finds a use in the wilderness;

  My constant companion is a white rack of cloud.

  There're some roads, but they don't put me thru

  To climb down to the world; I have got

  My no-minded-mind -- who can climb up

  To this level of mine? On my stone bed

  Alone I sit deep into the night while

  The moon's disc slides up toward the dawn.

  54

  Above the World

  Standing alone, I view the world

  From the top of the jagged cliffs --

  I tower above a mass of raging waves.

  Flapping in the wind, the pines trees

  Rhyme me in accord; the moon's disc rises,

  The sea tides roll in a monotone beat.

  But what is under the surface --

  Morays and dragons, a myriad of species,

  Taking turns, they gobble up each other,

  Lumping together in one gross of water-floaters.

  Below I look over the edge of bottomless aby
ss;

  To white clouds I confide my internal thoughts.

  My wild nature fits these rocky cliffs and the sea;

  My will is to be ever matched with the elements.

  55

  The Moon's Nature

  Since your mind is not yet

  Completely exhausted,

  False thoughts still arise

  Like smoke on the water.

  The moon's nature

  Is to be clear and bright;

  Far and wide, it is shining

  With no boundaries, at all.

  56

  The Crane Song

  I take delight in my staying

  In the deep mountains;

  I wander about at leisure,

  Relying on none for support.

  Day after day I clean and purify

  My decrepit body's channels

  And think my idle thoughts --

  Here's nothing else I have to do.

  At times I unroll some

  Of my age-old scriptures,

  And frequently climb up

  To my stone altar on top.

  From there I look down

  Over a thousand feet high cliff;

  Above me -- the Celestial Lake

  Set up beyond the milky clouds.

  Cold moon is so crispy bright!

  My airy body is like that of

  A lonely flying crane which

  Hovers over my soul in circles.

  57

  Happiness

  My wild life is so precious to me!

  All seven wonders of the world --

  How can they be compared to it?

  The moon's disc faces thru the pines --

  Crisp and chilly its brightness.

  White and rosy clouds --

  Tier upon tier they arise.

  Walking around, I surmount

  A few piles of mountains;

  Making the trip back, I cover

  A certain number of miles.

  Nearby the mountain stream

  I feel myself quiet and refined;

  My joyful tarrying in this place

  Knows no end. Sh! In a quiet way

  I announce my everlasting happiness.

  58

  Man's True Nature

  My primary will

  Is to be ever matched

  With the way of naturalness;

  As being a spontaneous man,

  One obtains one's true self.

  At times I run into those who

  Shut up the source of knowledge;

  Quite often I have those with whom

  I can freely talk of Contemplation (Chan).

  Chatting of the profound values

  All the moonlit night long,

  We all agreed thereon,

  Just before sunrise.

  When the myriad controversies

  Vanish into the morning air

  Without a trace, you realise

  The original nature of Man.

  59

  The Lunar Hub

  In front of the cliff all alone

  I quietly sit -- the moon's disc

  Illumines the night surroundings.

  The myriads of shapes sink

  Into the gray of half-shades,

  Leaving absolutely nothing

  The full moon couldn't light up.

  Unbounded and straight,

  My spirit refines itself keenly;

  Hugging the hollow,

  I cave myself into Profound.

  Following the pointing out finger

  I see the bright wheel of moon --

  It is the moon wheel's hub

  Which is the pivot of my mind.

  60

  The Moonlit Mind

  Higher and higher I climb

  On the top of the peak;

  In all the four directions

  No confines I can see.

  I sit alone; there is no one

  Who could know me;

  The orphaned moon

  Reflects in the cold spring.

  But in the spring, in truth,

  It is not the moon --

  The moon sets itself

  In the black-blue skies.

  Though I have sung away

  One single song of mine,

  What's at the end of it

  Is not the essence of Chan.

  There are the rosy clouds

  Flocked around this peak:

  Still and quiet, they're cut off

  From the worldly dust and dirt.

  A seat of straw --

  That's all what I have

  At my mountain home;

  My sole lamp is the moon's wheel.

  I set my stone bed by side

  Of the emerald pond;

  Tigers, boars and deer

  Are my companions at watering.

  I truly admire the joy

  Of this secluded spot

  To be a man who stays away

  From all occurrences for long.

  61

  Rock-Steady in the End

  Amid the many-tier cliffs

  A breeze walks back and forth.

  My fire-fan is unmoved --

  The cold comes up on its own.

  The bright moon's disc shines;

  White clouds cage my body in.

  Sitting alone by myself,

  I am already an old man.

  * * * * *

  About the Author

  Alexander Goldstein, a graduate of the Far-Eastern University in Sinology, lived and worked in mainland China for a period as a translator/interpreter, a manager, and a martial arts' practitioner. A certified instructor of 'Chang-quan' (external-style boxing) and 'Taiji-quan' (internal-style boxing), he is a lecturer of Chinese culture and traditions at the Open University in Tel-Aviv. He also is the constructionist of Lao-zi's "Dao-De Jing," the commentator of "Zen (Chan) Masters' Paradoxes," "The Illustrated Canon of Chen Family Taiji-quan," a Chinese novel and some other editions, which are available in print and electronic publishing at most online retailers published in English, Spanish and Russian. What makes his books so appealing is profound analysis and authority, with which various strains of the vigorous Chinese culture are woven into a clear and useful piece of guidance for a business person who conducts the affairs with far-eastern counterparties and for a counsellor who develops strategies that enable leaders to position their organisations in the Asia-Pacific region effectively.

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