Hello again. I’ll be going off topic from our usual EBT translations to share my work on Eihei Dōgen Zenji’s Chinese poetry.
There’s a few translations of his Chinese poetry in English (The Zen Poetry of Dōgen and Wisdom within Words). Far from presuming to know the Chinese better than these people, my gripe is that they’re not metric or rhyming. They’re kinda aimed for a buddhist-practitioner-academic kind of niche, so they’re a valuable treasure, but I don’t find the English particularly uplifting.
Taking a page from Fitzgerald’s translations of Rubaiyat, I hope to translate all of Dōgen’s work in metric rhyming English, taking a little bit of artistic liberties. I want to capture the spirit of Dōgen’s poetry, even if it means reconstituting certain descriptions with others, if it serves the poem aesthetically.
I’ll be doing these at a snail’s pace, currently shooting for doing a poem a week.
For the general EBT-centric perspective of these forums, it might be slightly out of fashion - but there’s quite a few Chinese speakers here who could help me out with my choices, and most of the poems are not explicitly Mahayana, but a piece of art most Buddhists (and hopefully, even non-buddhists) can find something to relate to.
Any criticism, with regards to deciphering the Chinese or to English renderings, is much appreciated.
Casual Seclusion Verse I Drifting in stillness with gain and loss both cast aside, Ten thousand things appear in the ever-present tide. Now that the wayfarer’s truth has stilled the beating heart, The body follows on where the flowing currents chart.
閑居偶作 Idle Reside Chance Compose
雙忘取舍思翛然
Pair Forget Take Discard Think Unrestrained Right
萬物同時現在前
Ten-thousand Thing Same Time Appear Be Before
佛法從今心旣盡
Buddha Dhamma From Now Heart Already Exhausted
身儀向後且隨緣
Body Conduct Toward Back And Follow Cause
My gripe with my translation here is the liberties I take with first and last line. I think it encapsulates the gist of Dōgen’s idea but I understand if it was contested. “Flowing currents chart” makes this more of a rendition than translation, but that’s fine for this project.
Casual Seclusion Verse V Life and death pitiful like clouds changing in a stream, Losing the path to find the way while treading the dream. After the awakening—only one thing remains, The sound of deep grass in secret meeting with night rains.
閑居偶作 Idle Reside Chance Compose
生死可憐雲變更
Life Death Pitiable Cloud Change Alter
迷途覺路夢中行
Lost Path Awakened Way Dream Within Walk
唯留一事醒猶記
Only Leave One Thing Awake Still Recall
深草閑居夜雨聲
Deep Grass Idle Reside Night Rain Sound
Heine says for third line:
“Although the wording in the Monkaku version explains the idea by using negative rhetoric—’But there is one more matter that must not be overlooked’ (雖然尚有難忘事)—the outlook of dedication to teaching remains the same.”
As for the last line, it refers to the town of Fukakusa (深草), literally “deep grass,” a site that served as a rustic getaway for the elite living in the capital during the Heian period. This was also where Dōgen established Kōshōji temple. I still think there’s a bit of wordplay here, so I chose to evoke the image of rain dropping on grass.
Mountain Dwelling I relay to the east the sacred way of elders from the west: Fishing the moon, plowing the clouds, admiring the ancient tempest; The red dust of the everyday affairs can not reach here by flight To my grass hut in the depths of the mountain on this snowy night.
山居 Mountain Reside
西來祖道我傳東
West Come Ancestor Way I Transmit East
釣月耕雲慕古風
Fish Moon Plow Cloud Admire Ancient Wind
世俗紅塵飛不到
Worldly Red Dust Fly Cannot Reach
深山雪夜草庵中
Deep Mountain Snow Night Grass Hut Within
“Tempest” may be a bit too strong a word for 風, but all in the name of rhymes. I still hope it’s fine.
This sounds great, very mythical, koanesque. Thanks for providing the opportunity to actually read into some of your namesake’s poetry. One of my all-time favourite writers was very fond of Zen, so it’s nice to see some literary parallels.
Mountain Dwelling How joyful and deeply solitary is this mountain dwelling, Such an opportunity for constant Lotus Sutra chanting. Pure like a watershield under the trees—what use there of craving? There is moonlight for the gazing, there is rain for the listening.
山居 Mountain Reside
幾悦山居尤寂寞
How Joy Mountain Reside Especially Lonely
因斯常讀法華經
Because This Constant Read Dharma Flower Sūtra
蓴精樹下何懀愛
Water-shield Pure Tree Beneath How Delight Love
月色可看雨可聽
Moon Light Can View Rain Can Hear
Heine seems to omit some descriptions, simplifying them. His third line reads “Single-mindedly sitting still, why ever engage with feelings of love and hate?”
Watershield is a plant a lot like lotus that’s quite common in Japan. I think it’s worth underlying the connection.
I wonder if he isn’t reading 蓴精 as 專精? It could be a play on words. But being under a tree is definitely a detail that should be there in the translation. It sets the scene for seeing the moon and hearing the rain …
Mountain Dwelling Sitting in the hush of night—sleep has not come nigh; Heart and mind finds the Way in mountainous forest. The stream enters the ear, the moon reaches the eye And so what else must stir the heart besides this rest?
Mountain Dwelling Long in the human realm—unmired from longing or despair, Cast aside letters born of the brush and inkstone remain, Watching the flowers and hearing the birds in idle air, Yielding to modern folk laugh at this inept one in vain.
This was a tricky one! I think lines 2 and 3 contain double entendres very much in Dōgen fashion. I’ve tried my best to recapture the ambiguity.
山居 Mountain Reside
久在人間無愛惜
Long Dwell Person World Without Love Grudge
文章筆硯旣拋來
Writing Text Brush Inkstone Already Throw Come
看華聞鳥風情少
Look Flower Hear Bird Wind Feeling Few
一任時人笑不才
One Let Time Person Laugh Not Gifted
旣拋來: Heine reads: “I’ve long since given up writing with brushes and inkstone.” reading 來 as an intensifier. While I can understand the “Zen” aspect of giving up letters and words, the irony is that this is written with words, brush and inkstone. Therefore I think this line is also about picking up ideas, virtues that are abandoned.
風情少: Another tricky one. 風情 means wind + feeling; as a compound, it means mien, grace in Chinese; and charm, elegance in Japanese. Thus I think it’s about observing ordinary birds and dull flowers, as well as linking back to the second line, and coming to a sound conclusion in the fourth line. Heine reads this as: “Seeing fowers and hearing birds without feeling very much”
Mountain Dwelling As the moon wails with the evening bell and the lantern’s light, Cloud-clad monks watch emptiness—sitting still in the temple. Blessed to have the three fields to sow seeds across tonight, Ah, the joy! Ripe freedom—a single heart in the middle.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
晚
鐘
嗚
月
上
燈
籠
evening
bell
rings
moon
rises
lamp
cage
wǎn
zhōng
míng
yuè
shàng
dēng
lóng
ばん
しょう
めい
つき
じょう
とう
ろう
ban
shou
mei
tsuki
jou
tou
rou
雲
衲
坐
堂
靜
觀
空
cloud
robe
sits
hall
quietly
observes
emptiness
yún
nà
zuò
táng
jìng
guān
kōng
うん
のう
ざ
どう
じょう
かん
くう
un
nou
za
dou
jou
kan
kuu
幸
得
三
田
今
下
種
luckily
obtain
three
fields
now
down
sow
xìng
dé
sān
tián
jīn
xià
zhǒng
こう
とく
さん
でん
こん
か
しゅ
kou
toku
san
den
kon
ka
shu
快
哉
熟
脱
一
心
中
joyful
indeed
ripe
shed
one
heart
within
kuài
zāi
shú
tuō
yī
xīn
zhōng
かい
さい
じゅく
だつ
いち
しん
ちゅう
kai
sai
juku
datsu
ichi
shin
chuu
Another one packed with nuances!
鐘嗚/嗚月: There’s a significant wordplay here. 鐘嗚 means the ring of bell, while 嗚月 means “the moon hums”, a synesthetic image where the moon seems to emit sound, blending sight and hearing.
Heine reads 月上燈籠 as “the light of lanterns eclipses the glow of the moon.” while technically I understand that grammar could be read as “Moon above lanterns [are] lit”, drawing out this idea explicitly seems like a mistake vis-a Zen poetic imagery, given the importance of Moon (signifying enlightenment). Rather, I think it’s the moon’s above the lanterns - the sound of the bells and the light of the lanterns are unified in the humming of the moon.
嗚 also having a sorrowful connotation, I went with the “wail”.
三田: Three fields honestly, this could be anything; Dōgen often has an emphasis on three times; there’s the three fields of energy in Taoism; there’s the threefold training of Sīla / Pañña / Samadhi; as well as the three karmic fields of Body, Speech & Mind; as well as the three pieces of robes worn by the monks… I’d wager that Zenji probably means all of them and none of them and so, it’s whatever three fields you want it to be.
一心中: “Single-minded within”, but 中 also means “middle” as in “the middle way”, so I went with that.
Mountain Dwelling Crystalline towers at the fore, jeweled halls in the rear; The temple on the mountain’s crown—six-seven tiers appear. Moon shines cool with the winds blowing high on this knot of time, Robes are handed at midnight to monks sitting in Zen prime.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
前
樓
後
閣
玲
瓏
起
front
tower
back
pavilion
exquisite
bright
rises
qián
lóu
hòu
gé
líng
lóng
qǐ
ぜん
ろう
こう
かく
れい
ろう
き
zen
rou
kou
kaku
rei
rou
ki
峰
頂
浮
圖
六
七
層
peak
top
hover
plan
six
seven
stories
fēng
dǐng
fú
tú
liù
qī
céng
ほう
ちょう
ふ
と
ろく
しち
そう
hou
chou
fu
to
roku
shichi
sou
月
冷
風
高
箇
時
節
moon
cold
wind
high
this
time
season
yuè
lěng
fēng
gāo
gè
shí
jié
つき
ひ
かぜ
たか
こ
じ
せつ
tsuki
hi
kaze
taka
ko
ji
setsu
衣
傳
半
夜
坐
禪
儈
robe
transmit
half
night
sitting
meditation
agent
yī
chuán
bàn
yè
zuò
chán
kuài
ころも
でん
はん
よる
ざ
ぜん
かい
koromo
den
han
yoru
za
zen
kai
月冷風高: Moon / Cold / Wind / High. This could be simply “Moon above the cold winds”, but again, I opted to personify moon with 月冷, so, such a cool moon.
箇時節: This / Time / 節. 節 is a rich word, meaning bamboo knots and joints, signifying a special season, and also signifying moral integrity. There’s no easy way to give all these nuances.
I don’t even know how you’d go about translating them. My first question is: Where do the prepositions hide?
It surely does sound beautiful, though!
If it was for the aesthetics - I’d sign up for zen!
That’s one of the joys and difficulties of Chinese - there’s very little grammar to speak of, or it’s implicit. Therefore there’s often many ways to read some passages, and double/triple entendres are quite common.
Usually in sutra translations, this is kind of straightforward - it also helps to know how the indic roots might’ve looked like, and trying to figure out what the translators might’ve meant in Chinese. In poetry, this is pretty much a guessing game - which is why Dao De Jing has like a bazillion different translations.
Someone once told me that translating Chinese to English is like redrawing a 3d image in 2d, and I kinda agree.
I’m glad you find them aesthetically pleasing though! To me that’s a focal point in this project - since there are nuances that’s bound to be lost with translation, there can never be a definitive correct one that does it all perfectly, the most important thing for me to is to give the general vibes and paint a delicate picture. You’ll have to ask @cdpatton how accurate my readings are though!
Mountain Dwelling Cricket remarks how the cicadas’ chirp-chirping is so urgent, While the gentle breeze and the hazy moon are idly-idly surgent; Clouds envelope the pine and cedars, the pond and the terrace old; Autumn rain drips on the temple’s phoenix tree—our mountainous hold.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
蛬
思
蟬
聲
何
切
切
cricket
ponder
cicada
sound
how
urgent
urgent
qióng
sī
chán
shēng
hé
qiè
qiè
きょう
し
せん
しょう
か
せつ
せつ
kyou
shi
sen
shou
ka
setsu
setsu
微
風
朧
月
兩
悠
悠
gentle
wind
hazy
moon
both
drifting
drifting
wēi
fēng
lóng
yuè
liǎng
yōu
yōu
び
かぜ
ろう
つき
りょう
ゆう
ゆう
bi
kaze
rou
tsuki
ryou
yuu
yuu
雲
封
松
柏
池
臺
舊
clouds
envelop
pines
cypress
pond
terrace
old
yún
fēng
sōng
bǎi
chí
tái
jiù
うん
ふう
まつ
はく
いけ
だい
きゅう
un
fuu
matsu
haku
ike
dai
kyuu
雨
滴
梧
桐
山
寺
秋
rain
drips
tree
tree
mountain
temple
autumn
yǔ
dī
wú
tóng
shān
sì
qiū
あめ
てき
ご
とう
やま
てら
あき
ame
teki
go
tou
yama
tera
aki
切切: “Yelp-yelp!” Heine once again omits an interesting detail. His first line reads: ‘How profusely the sounds of cicadas chirping are heard.’ However, I think there’s a cross-seasonal reference, with autumn crickets longing for the spring cicada’s yelping sound. Last line reads “Autumn rain” so it’s more likely that we’re hearing crickets now.
悠悠: Another tricky idiom. By itself it means “remote, leisurely”. Also means longevity. There’s a dichotomy of insects’ agitated repetition, and moon/wind’s leisurely reaching.
Snow Doing right or wrong is a lifetime of work—it is such a mess; Facing the world we lose the truth between illusion and realness; Thinking that the mountains bear the snow—years are wasted in excess; Waking up this winter that the snow’s the mountain—and nothing less.
The tricky part here is 事. While karma specifically is 業, for example 善事/惡事 is good deeds / bad deeds. Therefore I get a strong karmic connotation with 事. 事事 means “everything”. “A lifetime of work”, “Everything right or wrong”, “Doing right or wrong” are all the connotations I get. Therefore I tried to blend them all in the verse.
That’s interesting! Last line reflecting on the “autumn rain”, I wondered if Cicadas are too late for it. I’m definitely missing something with the pair of insects being compared to another though.
I’ll be going off topic from our usual EBT translations to share my work on Eihei Dōgen Zenji’s Chinese poetry.
That’s one of the joys and difficulties of Chinese - there’s very little grammar to speak of, or it’s implicit. Therefore there’s often many ways to read some passages, and double/triple entendres are quite common.