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Subject FOR NIRVANA /Korean Seon(zen) Master Cho Oh-Hyun 雪嶽 霧山 曺五鉉-7
Name   관리자 Hit 153

FOR NIRVANA 
108 ZEN SIJO POEMS    


CHO OH-HYUN
  



 


​​



 



ntroductory by KWON YOUNGMIN



 



translated by HEINZ INSU FENKLE 



 



Associate professor of English and Asian studies at SUNY New Paltz.



 



​​



 


49



 


THE WAY TO BISEUL MOUNTAIN



 


 



 


Who is that returning on the winding road to Mt. Biseul,



 


past the trees all stripped of time, the cloud-covered gorges below?



 


 



 


Is it a pleasant that splits the sky with its fluttering wings?



 


No keomungo strings, but if you tread there, won’t you hear the rhyme?



 


 



 


The road is spliced-as if to break-cut precipices-extending:



 


is that scent the spices of hail grains soaked into your clothes?



 


 



 


Does the temple sit, eyes shut, cloaked again in the inky dark?



 


Just as well to be tucked away, in isolation,obscure.



 


 



 


That lone bird, about now, does it drop a feather as it goes?



 


 



 


50



 


2007-SEOUL AT NOON



 


 



 


Today, a nude photo, halfway torn



 


At a crossroad on an alley wall amid the eateries of Sinsadong



 


 



 


And still, the Earth spins-



 


Galileos’s whine



 


 



 


51



 


2007-SEOUL AT NIGHT



 


 



 


Mute tree, mute bird



 


A picture of me, sitting



 


 



 


Or



 


 



 


an island frozen over in the dark



 


 



 


Not that, either, but a loud bird sneezing



 


 



 


52



 


WILD DUCKS & SHADOW



 


 



 


When I ask him-Master Haejang,



 


hero of the hangover drink-



 


for tiding of the mountain temple,



 


he says, Yesterday the wild ducks



 


that played in the West Star lotus pond



 


went away, and now, today, only



 


the shadow of the dogwood remains.



 


 



 


53



 


WINTER MOUNTAIN BEASTS



 


 



 


Ate midwinter black bean gruel,



 


cast out all manner of demons



 


 



 


Fell asleep reading Master Joju’s sayings



 


 



 


Crunch-a frozen tree breaking



 


in the deep lonely of a far mountain



 


 



 


54



 


A DAY AT OLD FRAGRANCE HALL



 


 



 


The sun slants in, onto the two-tiered wood floor



 


of Old Fragrance Hall



 


Through the hanging plaited bamboo shades,



 


The whole day flickering away.



 


 



 


Painting hanging askew on the wall:



 


a Taoist hermit with magical powers,



 


An old ferryman who’s let go of the oar,



 


drifting with his fishing boat,



 


And again, so soon, I am the setting sun.



 


 



 


55



 


BODHIDHARMA 1



 


 



 


The whole of the West was yours-



 


and you gave it not a glance



 


 



 


The master, who sat so long in solitude,



 


purifying himself in flame



 


 



 


Has left us a commodity



 


at the close of the global exchange



 


 



 


56



 


BODHIDHARMA 2



 


 



 


Live-trying living-and not



 


a lucky dream in the world



 


 



 


Even your hereditary occupation



 


and mooching all used up



 


 



 


Attained your aim for a round, and still



 


no investors to do business 쟈고



 


 



 


57



 




 


BODHIDHARMA 3



 


 



 


A shame’s New Year’s offering bowl



 


left out beneath a boulder-



 


 



 


You ate it all up at a glance,



 


and even if you were to vomit up the world



 


 



 


Still, you would see no one



 


Look around-you’ll be morning sick



 


 



 


58



 




 


BODHIDHARMA 4



 


The unfamiliar sound of the wind



 


that sawed at this one life



 


 



 


With the news cut off



 


in that apparent space



 


 



 


A pilgrim asks the way



 


and you draw him an empty circle



 


 



 


59



 


BODHIDHARMA 5



 


 



 


Fondle it daily and still



 


the beard won’t grow



 


 



 


The sky, too pale,



 


is being dyed



 


 



 


Fingernails, toenails, caught in moonlight,



 


all withered and fallen out



 


 



 


60



 




 


BODHIDHARMA 6



 


 



 


At the notice from afar, of debt returned



 


at the very conclusion of keeping house



 


 



 


Though this single garment of life



 


weighs heavy on your shoulders



 


 



 


You block the ways of the world and run-



 


away-in the opposite direction



 


 



 


61



 


 



 


BODHIDHARMA 7



 


 



 


On that soft, first fired clay



 


on the firm, fertile soil



 


 



 


That bamboo stamped in ink



 


is a sala tree



 


 



 


On that clear, calm current



 


you ride upstream



 


 



 


62



 




 


 



 


BODHIDHARMA 8



 


 



 


Wash your hair-wash it-



 


the dandruff doesn’t clear’



 


 



 


Life is itchy-



 


you scratch it with your nails



 


 



 


And dark marks,



 


the scars you left behind



 


 



 


63



 


BODHIDHARMA 9



 


 



 


No matter how much you glare,



 


those sword-blade eyes will not open



 


 



 


That bright seed, crammed in back