Viewing Blossoms at a Mountain Temple
The road enters the green mountains near evening's dark;
Beneath the white cherry trees, a Buddhist temple
Whose priest doesn't know what regret for spring's passing means--
Each stroke of his bell startles more blossoms into falling.
Writing a Spell to Protect Blossoms
Wind and rain just as the blossoms are falling!
I laugh as I write an incantation to hang on the flowering branches
People returning home sobering up from their wine will have a hard time reading this--
Slanting across the sparse plum shadows, a poetic charm in Sanskrit.
Keijo Shurin, from Zen Poems of the Five Mountains translated by David Pollack.
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