A collection of Zen poems near the time of death

Bassui

Look straight ahead. What’s there?
If you see it as it is
You will never err.

Daido Ichi

A tune of non-being
Filling the void:
Spring sun
Snow whiteness
Bright clouds
Clear wind.

Dairin Soto

My whole life long I’ve sharpened my sword
And now, face to face with death
I unsheathe it, and lo—
The blade is broken—
Alas!

Hosshin

Coming, all is clear, no doubt about it.
Going, all is clear, without a doubt.
What, then, is it all?

Koho Kennichi

To depart while seated or standing is all one.
All I shall leave behind me
Is a heap of bones.
In empty space I twist and soar
And come down with the roar of thunder
To the sea.

Musho Josho

When it comes—just so!
When it goes—just so!
Both coming and going occur each day.
The words I am speaking now—just so!

Shumpo Soki

My sword leans against the sky.
With its polished blade I’ll behead
The Buddha and all of his saints.
Let the lightning strike where it will.

Takuan Soho

Lying on his deathbed, Takuan at first refused to write
a death poem. At last he gave in to the entreaties of those
surrounding him, took up his brush, and drew the character
for “dream”.

Zosan Junku

You must play
The tune of non-being yourself—
Nine summits collapse
Eight oceans go dry.

Zoso Royo

I pondered Buddha’s teaching
A full four and eighty years.
The gates are all now locked about me.
No one was ever here—
Who then is he about to die,
And why lament for nothing?
Farewell!
The night is clear,
The moon shines calmly,
The wind in the pines
Is like a lyre’s song.
With no I and no other
Who hears the sound?


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