The Poetry of Cold Mountain: All You Have Is Seeds

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This is Dharma Podcast at thermapodcast.org.

This is episode number 2592.

It was recorded on March 2nd, 2026, and it is part 7, the final one of a multi-part series titled The Poetry of Cold Mountain.

A journey with legendary hermit Han Shan.

This episode is titled All You Have Is Seeds.

The speakers for this episode are Kaz Tanahashi and Peter Levitt.

Yeah, she was a Zen priest in a former life, but rather naughty one.

So I want to first greet the Mahasanga.

It's been wonderful being in the back and kind of following along and making various comments along the way.

But really, the most precious thing for me is that so many of you are part of our close family.

When we went online in 2020, beginning of the pandemic, and it's been just extraordinary to feel how even in the virtual space there can be intimacy through continuity, through the kind of ease that we feel.

And then our beloved friends onsite, including our Zen Circle community.

It's just residents have snuck up to me and said, oh, we're sorry, they're going.

You all have been great.

And when we finish this morning session with the whole group, the Zen Circle people were going to stay just for a final acknowledgement before I slip into the Mahasanga final.

And so, but I just encourage all of you to return to you, Paya.

You've just been in the heart of this place.

And also, I'm online in your practice every morning and afternoon.

And it's just been beautiful seeing the Zendo settle down.

I know some of you have never done this before.

High Kyle.

A mere six foot six now sitter.

And it's just anyway, it's very inspiring.

Our temple doors are open, but they're open wide.

I think some of you know.

And that wideness is really important as is the depth of our commitment to keep our temple doors open.

And part of that is possible through the generosity of so many.

Your Donna really makes a difference.

It's a wonderful nation for this program in Zen Circle.

It really helps us to support the teachers at a better level.

And you know, I've been teaching in centers all over the world.

It's really interesting being a religious person, so to speak.

You just have to tell you.

Somehow, you know, places feel like.

You're a religious person.

You're a total mendicant.

Yes, that is true.

I don't receive any money for what I do.

Everything comes, you know, into this place.

But the truth of the matter is there's insurance.

There's, you know, medical bills.

I mean, there's so much that has to be taken care of in our life in this capitalist society.

It's not of the capitalist worldview into the bodhisattva worldview.

What is it to actualize the first parameter of generosity?

And to understand the sixth parameter of wisdom?

What is it to be a wise person to see deeply into, as words words have said, the life of things?

Whatever you can to sustain a place like this, which is an extraordinary resource for so many people who cannot even get here,

can't get on a plane to fly here, who are far flung in Australia or England or Europe,

or people from Iran and Turkey and other places who have accessed this place.

And to be amazed how many people from Turkey are part of our far flung sangha.

It's really, and women, beautiful, powerful women.

And so I just encourage you, and with thanks to Kodo and the team, Deborah and Manny and David, under the hood, you know,

I think others is all automatic.

It's a miracle that Kodo hath wrought, truly.

And it doesn't change his salary, but it covers so many things that are actually not apparent,

including what it costs actually to have the kind of Zoom account that we have,

or the kind of Emil account that we have, or the technology that we've constructed in order to make the tech part of this very smooth,

or most importantly, the presence of residents.

Honestly, Yuppaya is nothing without our residents, truly.

Our residents are the heart of this place. They're the ballast.

And so our resident program is something that you also are supporting through your generosity.

So don't feel hesitant.

And is Peter coming?

I hope so.

Well, this is like Shabbat, you know, there's an empty seat here.

So, she'll, Wendy Lam?

Yeah, maybe we'll go check his room.

He might think it's at 9.30.

Anyway, thank you so much, and I'm looking forward to this morning session when Peter will appear.

Thank you, Shijong.

Thank you, Shijong.

I like to greet first.

Good evening.

Good afternoon, online friends.

And good morning, online friends.

So, we have a short time until 10 o'clock.

Have you kind of tried some translations?

Raise your hands.

Okay.

Oh, some of you wrote that?

And maybe your start with online friends, maybe three of you.

Russia, a mute.

One over you.

Okay.

We could start with Iris.

Good morning.

Good afternoon here in Germany.

I've come with the poem D on page 10.

And I would like to read it in German first, and then share my try with the English version.

My usual green air.

My stifles flogged from shit-grücken-haar.

It's called alone with the bird from Hasenhorn.

It's nice on the moon.

I used it myself.

No one's at me for this.

Yachtlose, yacht.

They're kind of best I've ever tasted.

My robe is woven from blooming air.

My boots plated from totus hair.

Armed solely with a bow made from horn of the hair.

I aim for demons born from my own fear.

Now tell me, for this huntless hunt, could there be any better gear?

Thank you so much.

I'm wondering if we could, can you hear me, Peter?

Great.

I'm wondering if we could hear that poem one more time.

It is so rich.

Is that okay?

The one she just read?

Yeah.

Love to.

Thank you.

So maybe English part.

That would be great.

Repeat.

Okay.

Can I see?

Oh, here we go.

I'm on you.

Hello, Peter.

Good morning.

Thank you again.

Thank you again.

Okay.

Here it is again in English.

It's the poem D on page 10.

My robe is woven from blooming air.

My boots plated from totus hair.

And solely with a bow made from horn of the hair.

I aim for demons born from my own fear.

Now tell me, for this huntless hunt, could there be any better gear?

Wonderful.

I should get a copy.

Thank you.

Where are you based?

In Hamburg.

Wonderful town.

Thank you.

I apologize for being late.

I got lost on cold mountain.

Yeah, when my friends tell where you are.

So we can really relate to you more.

Thank you so much.

I ask another online person.

Can you hear me?

Okay.

Can you hear me?

We hear you well.

Thank you.

Okay.

So I'm located in Quenka, Ecuador.

Which is a city that is at 8300 feet of altitude in the Andes.

And my poem is from poem C.

Anshan inscribed the book of his mind on walls of stone.

Did those poems give him companionship in moments of happiness and sorrow?

Lonely, he struggled and became his own friend.

His light, the yellow sun, the white moon, his darkness, moments of shimmering doubt and grief.

Light and dark, full and empty.

There was always more.

Oh, beautiful.

Thank you so much.

Well, poems are amazing.

Yeah.

It's just amazing.

You're becoming our teachers.

Thank you.

And now I invite one more, Cods and Peter.

Please see.

Ressa Alboher.

You're unmuted now.

Oh, thank you.

Thank you so much.

And my apologies for staying off camera.

I'm in Los Angeles.

And I worked with the translation at for a poem A.

My heart is like this autumn moon.

So deep, pure, pristine, profound.

And yet, what can I really say?

No comparison can really nail this down.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Wonderful.

I have a request.

Codo, I don't know if it's my hearing aids or what, but I'm having trouble hearing very clearly.

Can everyone else hear just sort of normally?

Could it be boosted a little bit?

Thank you.

So she'll read it again.

Thank you.

Okay.

Okay.

Thank you.

So deep, pure, pristine, profound.

And yet, what can I really say?

No comparison can really nail this down.

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

It's just so amazing.

I mean, we are sitting in one room together, but kind of listening to the poems from Germany,

Ecuador and Los Angeles.

It's sort of insane.

I don't think Einstein will ever remember this.

No.

Yes.

Well, it's just one of the benefits when the road doesn't go through.

Can you invite someone on-site to offer?

Please.

Yeah.

Please.

Someone is ringing a microphone.

This poem was inspired by a poem C, but it comes out of the mountain climb expedition

in the fall.

From my tent at base camp, a single star-

Hold on, hold on.

Slow.

Thank you.

We're not racing.

It's my close to your mouth.

Yeah.

From my tent at base camp, a single star high and bright over a cold mountain.

Will you risk everything to reach the summit of cold mountain?

I climbed through the night, nothing but ice, rock and snow.

Unseen avalanche, thunderfall, snow dust, crevass jaws.

Fearful.

I hope for the warm and light of the dawn.

At the summit, there's nothing but lonely rocks, high winds and icy cold.

Heavy dark clouds flow from the east.

I down climb as the full moon lights my path.

Ascent and decent, based to summit to base, the circle complete.

Where was the top of cold mountain?

Where was the last step on the way?

I am lost in cold mountain.

Where was it?

There in the shock window, a flower blossom floating in a polished, jade bowl.

You will never find cold mountain if you look for it at the summit.

Wonderful.

Thank you so much.

That's great.

Yeah.

Your poem brought to mind, it's just a stray thought I had yesterday looking at the mountain here.

The stray thought was, I just remembered it as after your poem.

When the mountain climbs me at its peak, I find the ground.

That's what you were saying, right?

Yeah.

Thank you.

Beautiful Peter.

Thank you.

So this was from a spontaneous observation this morning.

Pointed to the ground and said, you dropped a napkin.

I thought I was enlightened until I saw the white cloud on the floor.

Nice.

Thank you.

Thank you Matt for helping me co-create that.

Delusions are inexhaustible.

I vow to pick them up.

There are some more people here.

This is from poem E.

Quickly between breakfast and being here.

This black bug in my head, 1,000 years old, creates a sturdy melody.

Still creates a threshold to an iron cast door.

Watch this ghost laugh as it claps one hand.

Wonderful.

Aren't these amazing?

Just amazing.

There's no way in the world cause and I could translate like you are.

Sure.

Galen.

Hello.

I am in Shenandoah Valley, Virginia and our mountains are the blue ridge.

So I really embraced what you were saying about, you know, where, where are you?

Where is your place?

And this is, so this is poem B because in boy.

The morning sun, grins from behind the blue ridge.

Clouds have transformed into clean, deep pools, washing the dust of my mind.

So I can ask, who is it?

I'm headed up to Seven Bend State Park today in my route for.

I don't have a horse.

Thank you.

Have a good ride.

Oh, wonderful.

The blue ridge mountains are gorgeous.

Yeah, I hope fortunate you live there.

And Sid, so nice to see you.

I haven't seen you in person in years, but welcome.

So glad to be here.

Can you hear me well?

Yeah, I think maybe too well.

Maybe just turn down the volume slightly.

This one is from poem A.

Where are you based?

Oh, I'm sorry.

Boca region.

Chris and I are from living in Boca region, Florida now.

My heart at one with the harvest moon floating in the clear pure sky.

A deep abyss.

Nothing we can touch endures at one with the autumn moon.

Teach me what to say.

Beautiful.

Wonderful.

Sid, thank you.

Beautiful.

Thank you.

And Maryanne.

And share where you are.

Yes.

I'm in Queens, Northeastern Queens, New York.

I'm right by the bay in a town called Bayside.

And we are filled with snow, which is beautiful.

Yesterday, I wanted to offer something, but my mind was a jumble with words.

So it was a beautiful prompt today to go to poem C.

And I had images from what I wanted to share yesterday that came into this today.

My mind is like a bridge suspended in midair.

Below is the forest floor and roaring river below.

Ice and snow cover my path.

My steps are slow.

I stumble often.

The road is steep and rough.

But there is no turning back.

High above Wildbird circle the sky.

There are moon and stars and seven planets line up in perfect balance.

Like my heart centered in now.

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

Wonderful.

You have a lot of snow in Bayside.

Yes.

Would you please send it to Canada?

I know.

I've been thinking of you.

My father is Canadian.

I've spent much time.

I grew up in Detroit and Montreal and Toronto.

Yeah.

Thank you.

We need the snow.

Yeah.

Be sure to.

Thank you.

One more online here in the Miller.

Thank you.

Mine is also from poem C.

And from Culver City, by the way.

Yes, from Culver City, California.

Okay.

So from poem C.

A net of stars bright and deep night.

Solitary Boulder lit by sinking moon.

The full circle of light flowers as an unpolished gem.

Suspended in blue sky.

I am nothing but this heart.

Beautiful.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

I want to point something out.

Those of you who are writing based on ABC or D.

You have nothing but these elements.

They're not even your elements.

You didn't create them.

Somebody handed them to you.

Translated from another language from a poet who wrote 1300 years ago.

You stumbled into these elements, knowing nothing.

This is crucial as part of your creative process.

You don't have to know anything.

But you have to be where you are and say,

Oh, what's this?

And what's this?

And what's this?

And soon your creativity will start to flow into an expression that is true for you.

And we're hearing it right now.

You could not plan anything.

You don't know these poems.

You don't know where it came from.

And some of it doesn't even make any sense.

But when you allow yourself to stumble forward and say,

Oh, what's this?

Something can really happen.

So thank you so much for showing that that's the case.

Appreciate it.

So Peter, when was a creative process of poetry making?

Maybe kind of to have some images?

Okay, let's say a candle or something maybe continuous or passing or anything.

Maybe a few or several words kind of,

Okay, maybe this is my thing.

I'd like to write a poem about that.

Yeah, absolutely.

You know, I used it when I taught writing.

I don't need a bit of a one.

I used to tell my students, you don't have to make it up.

It's up.

You just have to see it.

Have some confidence.

You know, like my old teacher said, have some confidence in your Buddha nature.

Have some confidence that you are by nature and by birthright a creative being.

Use that part of yourself.

So at one point, I was inspired by the ring who has been here.

We just do write some piece poems.

So, okay, so I wanted to, I need to have something concrete.

So, okay.

We want to write about Apple or planting carrots.

Or so, maybe a stroller or anything concrete.

And then such kind of writing may be with playing.

So that can be repeated.

And then I wrote about 150 poems, piece poems.

And then about 50 have been set by composers.

Some of them, my daughter was a high school, a college student,

a professional composer and so forth.

Anyway, so you can do something kind of create maybe poems for songs.

That's one thing we could do.

Thank you.

Can we hear one of your people?

One of these may be encounter.

So, I think we've learned is encounter is kind of this life where I meet someone.

Anyway, I forgot, I wish you a dream were here, but anyway, it's okay.

It's all right.

Sorry, it's okay.

Can I, for the fun of it, share two haiku?

Breaking through round, dry, ground, brave little crocus.

Breaking through, sorry, breaking through round, dry, ground, brave little crocus.

Then just one more.

Wonderful, please.

A painted rice cake?

Or is it a super moon?

How delicious.

Well, she said again, please people were enjoying it.

A painted rice cake?

Or is it a super moon?

How delicious.

Okay.

Eat the moon.

Thank you.

Are we in the room or us?

I don't know where we are in the room.

We're in the room.

We are.

I was so pleased.

Yeah.

So, I did poem D.

Is this on?

Yeah.

I did poem D.

I tried to really stick to the characters and not go off track.

So, I really tried to make it like a translation of those characters.

It also expresses how I have felt when I have spent time beyond the roads in the deep mountains

for extended periods of time.

This body feels clear as empty sky, wearing air and flower blossom robes.

Now, my feet follow the tortoise tracks.

My hair unkempt, but I have put on shoes.

If my hands could grasp the leaping rabbit and I could blow the rainbow like a horn,

then I would no longer pretend to be wise, nor would I need to shoot at ghosts.

Wonderful.

Can I give you an editing suggestion?

Yes, please.

Take the word feels out in the second line and read the line.

At the beginning of the year.

This body clear as empty sky.

This body clear as empty sky.

It's not that it feels it. It's that it is it.

Indeed.

Okay.

This is from poem E.

This person is a dark headed bug made old from many, many years of music making

music as solid as an iron barrier that stops that other demon and claps and laughs until we see.

Wonderful.

That's great.

You stayed very close to the to the idea graphs.

Yeah, that's great.

Thank you.

Yeah, but thank you.

One more from in the room.

Is there?

Okay, let's go to the other room.

So Lauren.

Where are you, Lauren?

I am here.

I'm in Brooklyn, Brooklyn, New York.

Okay, so I interpreted poem E and I would say I used some poetic license.

Poem E, we are but black haired bugs singing our songs since forever.

Marking out our territory.

Demon spirits laugh and clap along.

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

I didn't I didn't think you needed to carry your license that seemed pretty direct.

That was wonderful.

Thank you.

Thank you, Lauren.

Rami.

I know these poems.

Thank you.

It's yours, right?

It's all right if I read two brief things.

One is in response to the home A and the others in response to a theme from yesterday.

And could you say where you are?

Where are you?

I'm in Toronto.

Hi, Peter.

I practiced with you long, long ago.

Yeah.

Good to see you.

Thank you.

Good to see you.

These go together and I will start with shadow.

Shadow.

Hand writing.

Show me a shape of me in outline.

Form flattened by strong light.

Thank you.

And then that follows into home A, I think.

Like the autumn moon.

Clear and bright in the blue of this.

Nothing can compare to this wholeness.

Teach me to speak in this way.

Can you say the last line again?

Teach me to speak in this way.

Great.

Thank you.

Thank you so much, Rami.

Wonderful.

Great to see you again.

In Hanna.

I see you.

Oh, hi.

I'm Hi, Peter.

Hi, because I'm in the Waymouth on the English Channel.

Where my ancestors left in the early 1600s.

This is a ala poem deep.

My body wears a sky robe.

Brushing the tortoise of crunching shoes.

My rabbit hand arcing a rainbow mimics wise wild spirit.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you, Hannah.

Really amazing.

Thank you so much.

And wonderful who are in your ancestral land.

Where are you?

I am in New York.

Still a little bit of snow just a dusting today.

So I kind of loosely followed the rules.

I remember Peter in a workshop in many way, many times saying the expression permission granted.

That's my, I take that very seriously.

Thank you.

Oh, this is my, my imagination.

Trying to translate to me.

An insect with no name arrives at the crown of gold of cold mountain.

Raven meets her on the path.

Raven is black as the notes of music with their 10,000 bells.

They live together in harmony, not knowing their lives are only words.

So let me calligraphy on rice paper.

Oh, stone mountain.

Let me find my true name here.

If only for a moment.

Let me climb beyond the shadow of my ghost.

Well, it'll take me a while to figure out the meaning of all of this.

Well, while you're working on that, please write 10 more poems.

So beautiful.

This last line.

Let me climb beyond the shadow of my ghost.

That's yeah.

That's fabulous line.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

And one more person online Lee.

And remember to tell us who you are, even though you might have shared already.

Hello, everyone.

Greetings.

I'm in the Santa Cruz Mountains.

So good to see you and be together.

Thank you.

I worked on poem D.

Body, self, embroidering.

Thin air.

Stepping into flowerblossom robe.

Carried by tortoise hair.

Sandals, treading on a rainbow.

Arching bright and wise.

A demon spirit.

Bays to try.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

I want to make a suggestion to people based on what you're doing here.

You see how you can work from seeds.

All you have is seeds and something can grow.

After you write your own poem, not based on this.

Then look at your poem and find the seed words in your poem.

Write them down just as you see here.

Word, word, word, word, word, word.

Like that.

And then let that be the beginning of a new poem.

So let your poem seed your poem.

Okay?

It's a wonderful exercise.

And you'll find that there were things in your poems you had no idea about

until you planted them again.

Okay?

So please try that.

Okay.

We are in the room now.

Patizando, Sri mountain hall.

It's getting something.

We're getting your steps in by son.

This is aerobics.

Xen aerobics.

Thank you.

My mind's a kin.

This is poem.

It needs to be louder, please.

Yeah.

Check.

Check.

Check.

Thank you.

My mind's a kin to autumn moonlight, or a deep blue lake, clean, brilliant, purifying all, which has no equal and to which nothing compares.

Speak through me, I pray.

I have nothing left to say.

Thank you.

Thank you so much, Pat.

Thank you.

So I lost my reading glasses this morning, which meant that I couldn't work with the paper, but then I found them.

So this is in the manner of Hanshan.

But not.

See if I can even read it.

In a cool morning, I tried to go to Cold Mountain, but I lost my glasses on the way.

Looking up, white clouds said, just follow me.

No need for eyes to get to Cold Mountain.

And then if you'd indulge me ever since yesterday, I have a poem that has been going over and over in my head.

It's not Hanshan.

It's by the poet Apollinaire.

And I'm just going to recite the first verse, but it's the mood that I feel given what's going on in the world.

So I'll now translate it, sort of.

Under the Miracle Bridge runs the sand.

And all our loves must we remember them.

But joy, but remember that joy comes always after the pain.

Come the night, sound the hour.

Come the night, sound the hour.

Come the night, sound the hour.

Come the night, sound the hour.

Come the night, sound the hour.

The days go by, but I remain.

Wonderful.

Thank you.

Thank you, Claire.

So much.

You know, I don't speak French, but when I was 18, I first heard the name Apollinaire,

but because I don't speak French, it created an image.

You know what the image was?

Apoll in air.

And I thought someday I should read him.

Do we have more?

We can go.

Oh, yes.

I'm filling the air with poems.

Good.

Protect us.

Okay.

This is inspired by poem D.

On this air body, empty as the sky,

wearing flower blossoms in hair for clothes,

walk the turtle track in straw sandals.

Stop, listen, look.

Rabbit blows a horn under the rainbow.

Don't even try perfection.

Just blast that demon spirit and become wise and bright.

Thanks.

Thank you.

That's great.

So, Peter,

we have a little bit over 10 minutes.

So we can continue kind of reading translation,

but also we can talk about the kind of experience of trying to maybe loosely translate poems.

And then maybe we can ask people, you know,

it may be something different from writing your own poems.

So what's the difference?

Peter, I would really love also for you to, you know,

as an extraordinary poet and someone who has worked in translation for so many decades

and ultimately with cause, you know, what would be your kind of gift to us

about this practice of dropping into the beauty of ancient poets

and shining the light of your own poets' heart through their heart?

You know, thank you.

I'll just say briefly.

You saw the film last night, Red Pine.

Red Pine was in the film.

Bill Porter is another name for him.

At some point in the last few years,

I was so immersed in both translation and, you know, translation from, let's say,

ancient poets in the Chan tradition and mostly from Tang Dynasty and then also my own writing.

And I wrote to Bill and I said, you know, I'm pretty withdrawn.

I don't really call almost anybody, even my good friends.

I'm just sort of down in the sanctuary where I live in poetry.

And he wrote back and said, you know, the truth is, if I didn't have these poets,

I don't think I would have any friends at all.

This is a really, and I felt this way also, that allowing ourselves to enter the sanctuary

that being involved in writing that is what it means to be involved in writing.

To enter the sanctuary that aiming towards or working with or receiving poems allows

is a way of being so present as yourself in the world,

which is no different than our Zen practice, that it is really one of life's great treasures.

And if we allow ourselves to disentangle even just enough to start to,

and I'm going to use the word descend because come down into ourself as we come down into the world,

we can discover great treasure with that kind of presence because it takes total presence.

You remember, at some point I said practice, Zen practice, and writing.

It takes all of what you are to do both.

But it actually gives you all of what you are by doing both.

And so this is where the practice of writing and the practice of practice

and just being alive completely as yourself openly, heartfully speaking for myself,

but certainly not only for myself, in service to life itself that wants to live.

Life wants to live.

We're involved in that when we're sitting in Zazen and when we're writing poetry.

It's a treasure.

We can have this treasure because it is our birthright.

Don't throw the treasure away.

The treasure is not just the jewel that you might someday find in the back of your robe.

It's something you polish with every breath and with everything that you do.

If you allow yourself to say yes, I will do this.

Does that answer it a little, Rosé?

Oh, thank you. That was really, really powerful.

So Peter famously said, I can't wait to hear it.

I always wanted to hear what someone famous said.

Translation is to traumatize two languages at the same time.

That is true.

I mean translation is an act of being defeated all the time.

Even the word water, CO2, Japanese or Chinese water,

that could mean sometimes landscape and rivers and oceans and so forth.

And then English word water, that kind of like watering the plants or territorial waters and so forth.

So similar kind of words in different languages, but they kind of overlap and not overlap.

So when we translate, we lose some loads of meanings and associations and then we add something extra.

So this is just even a very simple word like trees or forests or mountains.

But also if it's a compound, two words.

And then if it becomes a phrase and then sentence, we lose everything.

And then one way to do translation is to deconstruct the kind of structure

of maybe if it was passive and it could be active or different ways.

And try to kind of convey the most, maybe basic meanings and then also the force of the message

to the kind of so-called targeting languages.

So in a way it's very humbling, very humbling.

So we know that we can't do it.

But find some way to somehow transmit something from the horse.

Can I follow up with you because?

You know, I said it before. I want to use what Kaz just said to emphasize this point.

The world, including our feelings, etc., is not made of words.

It is not. We are always translating, always translating.

And yet I feel something, right?

Okay, I love. I can say I love you.

But that may not actually say what I'm feeling.

So I have to try to find a way to say it in words but also in actions.

I have to express. That's the word. You know, express it. I have to.

So it means I have to be willing to touch whatever that non-liquistic thing is

and find a way for it to come out if I'm going to use words in language.

So many, many years ago I went to the first semester that I ever practiced with,

who was my Zumi Roshi.

And I called and said, can we have a meeting?

He was always very, very generous with me and he always made time for me.

He liked that I was a poet. He was a very literary person as well.

And so I went to see him and he said, what do you want?

And I said, Roshi, what are words?

We're in a tradition that says it can't be transmitted through words.

What are words? And he said, here's the thing about words.

When using words, never forget the place from which the words come out from.

Never forget the place from which the words come out from.

And I heard it in his Japanese English, from, from.

A native speaker would say, never forget the place from which the words come.

Or from which the words come out.

But he ended with from. And that's what really caught my attention.

Go to source is what he was saying.

The words come from source.

So when you're translating or when you're writing,

you have to touch source.

And if you touch source, whatever that is,

then there's a good chance that your translation,

whether it's, quote, your own poem or from translation or anything,

has a chance to actually express the truth of that source of that movement.

So when you read these, you know, character towards,

and I'm hearing it in, in what you're doing,

people are going to source and they're finding it within themselves.

And then it's that combination of you touching source

that brings your poems forward.

Poetry doesn't come from a good idea.

A lot of us are so, yeah.

Well, now you know the limits of thinking.

Poetry comes from actual contact, actual engagement with whatever it is.

Maybe it's an idea, maybe it's a stone, maybe it's a tree.

Federico Garcia Lorca, who was the first poet I translated when I was 13,

he goes, I spoke Spanish, he said,

Where did they kill you? Where did they green?

How I love you, green.

Just green.

That's source.

And then he enters green.

You can all do it.

There is no special quality.

It is the quality of mind.

That's what Hans Chan has been showing us.

The quality of mind, touching source, your poems will come.

Thank you, Peter.

So finally, I think so poetry, I mean translating,

is an act of being continuously defeated.

So we should quit.

Yeah, let's quit while we're behind.

But also, it changes our consciousness.

People's consciousness.

It changes people's life.

And it changes the culture.

It changes civilization.

Thank you so much.

Thank you so much.

Thank you everybody.

So we will have a break for our wonderful on-site Sangha.

We're going to take about 12 minutes for a break to stretch

and use the bathroom.

But I also, for our online Sangha,

we will be gathering with you at 11 o'clock mountain time

for the final and so with you.

And I just thank you both so much.

It was such a really beautiful couple of days together.

And so much beauty was shared also among our maha community here.

Thank you.

Thank you for coming up with the idea and inviting us.

Well, so kind.

Thank you so much.

It was collaboration with Dr. Tanahashi.

So shall we?

Well, please come.

Okay.

Thank you, Jita.

Wonderful.

So we will reassemble at 12 after the hour.