Facing the Moon, There Is No End

Facing the Moon, There Is No End

All four seasons have the moon,

and yet we admire it especially in autumn.

The mountain is high and the water clear.

In the sky of myriad miles, a round mirror flies.

Forgetting both light and object—who is this?

Heaven is high and high; autumn is chill and chill.

Holding the treasure stick, I circle the belly of the mountain.

All directions are solitary and serene.

I gaze as the moon gushes glowing light.

Who in this evening looks at it?

What does it illuminate?

How many autumns come and go?

Looking at the moon, facing the moon, there is no end.

Transmission on Vulture Peak and Caoxi’s pointing—

wondrous teachings under the moon.

The night is already deep when I chant under the moon,

settling on the river while dew grows thick.

Whose pond reflects the most luminescence?

Which wanderer has the heart of fall?

Don’t you see Jiangxi,

who on the night of moon gazing

recognized that Puyuan alone had passed beyond forms?

Don’t you also hear

Yaoshan’s famous laughter under the moon

resounding through the village from his solitary peak?

These are stories in ancient times that led seekers of the way

to look toward waxing and waning with empty minds.

Having carried much longing for the ancient,

I also face the moon, robe moistened by evening dew.

 – Ryokan

From Sky Above, Great Wind
Translations by Kazuaki Tanahashi

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So Like Still Water