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At the moon door, the master held a knotted rope. The monk asked, “How do I pass through?” “Untie it.” The monk reached. The master drew it back. “Not that.” Autumn. Leaves fell through the round gate. The monk returned. “Untied.” The master lifted the rope. The knot remained. “Who
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Monk: — Master, I’ve made a list of questions with no answers. Master: — Read the last. The monk turned the pages—until he reached the final one. — Empty. The master gestured. — Fill it. Now. The monk raised the brush— his hand would not descend. The master turned the page. The
A monk said, “I have grasped emptiness.” The master nodded. He poured tea into a cup already full until it overflowed. The monk cried, “It’s spilling!” The master said, “Is it tea that spills— or your grasp?” Who realized whom? 僧曰く、「我、空を得たり」と。 師、頷く。 既に満ちたる茶碗に茶を注ぎ、 溢るるに至る。 僧、
Which cup cannot receive Master fills. Still pours Full Placed at the monk’s feet. Pour Monk lifts kettle—— KATSU 僧問う 受けざる茶碗とは何ぞ。 師 茶碗を満たし なお注ぐ。 僧曰く 満つ。 師 茶碗を脚下に置く。注げ。 僧 挙ぐ—— 喝（かつ） «Что это за чаша, которая не может принять?» Учитель наполнил чашу и продолжал лить. «Полна» Учитель
(after Sei Shōnagon) A rainy evening in Gion. The sky darkens to iris-blue; damp earth and old cedar scent the air. Paper lanterns glowing in deep puddles—fallen stars strayed into shadow. An orange carriage crossing the grey gloom, like a sudden witty remark in solemn talk. One shared
Indigo blue hour— rain washes ancient wood; amber lanterns flare. Beneath one shared silk umbrella, two hearts warm in the cold mist. 薄紫の黄昏 藍の暮れ 雨は古木を洗う 灯は琥珀 一傘に寄れば 霧の胸あたたか Лиловый час Синева предночья. Дождь обмывает старые стволы, огни — как янтарь. Под одним зонтом прижаться — грудь теплеет в холодном тумане.
The student asked, “Was there a past?” The teacher pointed to the stone’s imprint. “There was,” said the student. “Show me the ‘was.’” Silence. भिक्षु पृच्छति – अतीतोऽभूद् वा आचार्यः शिला-लेखं निर्दिशति भिक्षु
Good can’t be driven with a whip. Good can’t be hauled with a rope. A horse yields to the lightest hand— and even that is a kind of force. A heart turns at a look— not from pressure, but from room. Water isn’t pushed; it settles where
Monk: — I can’t read these characters. Can I still love the writing? The Master drew one stroke. Monk: — I don’t understand the meaning. Master: — What is meaning? Silence. Master: — Meaning: a door with a sign. A stroke: a step without a name. Who reads, takes. Who sees, gives.
Pour the tea. For whom. What do you fear. Cannot pour. Cling. Sink. Already. Still. 茶を注げ 誰に 何を畏る 注げず 執る 沈む すでに 静 Налей чаю. Кому. Кого боишься. Не льётся. Держишь. Тонешь. Тишина.
Hold me, be with me. Keep me safe until the jazz begins. (Aquarium, Day of Silver) Pressed against the edge of dawn we lean into each other, waiting for the jazz to begin. In a quiet city at the edge of night, snow fell, becoming silence. Streetlights left small islands
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