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Subject FOR NIRVANA /Korean Seon(zen) Master Cho Oh-Hyun 雪嶽 霧山 曺五鉉-8
Name   관리자 Hit 144

FOR NIRVANA 
108 ZEN SIJO POEMS     


CHO OH-HYUN
  



 


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ntroductory by KWON YOUNGMIN



 



translated by HEINZ INSU FENKLE 



 


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



 



​​



 


65



 


SUNSET, BAY OF INCHEON



 


 



 


That evening the water appeared unusually



 


red, red



 


And the old fisherman, who stayed afloat



 


come sweet, come bitter waves



 


On the next day, was seen



 


no longer



 


 



 


66



 


THE SEA



 


 



 


Clouds blaze open like peonies



 


before the bright sun



 


 



 


Waves, time passing, undulate



 


in the thunderous wind and rain



 


 



 


And my heart swells



 


a wild goose spreads its wings



 


 



 


67



 


WORDS OF A BOATMAN



 


 



 


Against the sky, his palm, fingers all mangled,



 


 



 


Shades his face-no ears, neck, mouth, or nose-



 


 



 


Gathering in the spills of his smile.



 


 



 


68



 


 



 


MOMENTS I WISHED WOULD LINGER



 


 



 


Mountain echoing to mountain,



 


or sea crying out to see;



 


 



 


Loved ones crossing the water,



 


sail raised to catch the wind;



 


 



 


That carefree bum, sitting,



 


drowsing in the mountains.



 


 



 


69



 


YOU AND I: OUR OUTCRY



 


 



 


At my youthful footsteps,



 


or at my polite cough



 


The mountain stream where the dance



 


would leap out of the water



 


Where did it all flow away to?



 


a single crab like a burnt ember



 


 



 


70



 


YOU AND I: OUR LAMENTATION



 


 



 


The stone Buddha on the roadside



 


where the road splits to my birthplace



 


and even the holy tree



 


hung with 50,000 strips of cloth



 


Did they ascend to some heaven?



 


Mama! Poppa!



 


 



 


71



 


SIBLING



 


 



 


young siblings ambling down



 


the narrow path to the village



 


 



 


like the pink flowers blooming there,



 


the color of where stem mets leaf



 


 



 


in the early morning,



 


still wet with dew



 


 



 


72



 


WHEN THE SAWN COMES SOWN



 


 



 


Here, a grandfather’s love is as familiar



 


as the taste of bitter orange



 


 



 


And a grandmother’s love



 


has all the spice of hot pepper paste



 


 



 


I come for a visit, and on the path today



 


I taste the morning stillness



 


 



 


73



 


A FISTFUL OF ASHES



 


 



 


Day before yesterday, at Mt. Yeongchuk crematorium,



 


I scattered my longtime dharma friend-a handful of ashes.



 


The sobs and sniffles of some crying man-I let fly.



 


 



 


The stone marker lying by the road-was it tossed?



 


It has some breath yet-see the liver spots blooming?



 


I watched for a long while, then came back down.



 


 



 


After I’m gone-whenever-what will remain?



 


A blind cuckoo, at least, crying in some forest?



 


I turn carefully, look back-only a fistful of ashes I’ve strewn.



 


 



 


74



 


 



 


HOLDING ON TO A FINGER



 


 



 


there’s Master Josil in front of the sangha



 


beating the dharma drum



 


 



 


and a kid, maybe 7 years old



 


listening, ears plugged



 


 



 


wants to hold my hand



 


and hear the sound of thunder



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