Looking for the Ox
Searching through tall endless grass,
Rivers, mountain ranges, the path trails off.
Weary, exhausted, no place left to hunt:
Maples rustle, evening, the cicada’s song.
K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo)
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Riding the Ox Home
Riding the ox home, taking it easy,
The flute’s notes vanish in the evening haze.
Tapping time to a folk song, happy as can be -
It’s all too much for words.
K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo)
[image source]
Ox Transcended
Whip, rope, self, ox - no traces left.
Thoughts cannot penetrate the vast blue sky,
Snowflakes cannot survive a red-hot stove.
Arriving here, meet the ancient teachers.
K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo)
[image source]
Seeing the Ox
Oriole in the branch chirps and chirps,
Sun warm, breeze through the willows.
There is the ox, cornered, alone.
That head, those horns! Who could paint them?
K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo)
[image source]
Ox Forgotten
Reaching home on the back of the ox,
Rest now, the ox forgotten.
Taking a nap under the noon sun,
Whip and rope abandoned behind the hut.
K’uo-an (trans. Stanley Lombardo)
[image source]