Buddhist Temple In The Mountains Poem by Daniel Brick
Buddhist Temple In The Mountains
My journey began in spring
when my heart prayed for salvation.
I decided to enter the Buddhist Temple
where Li Cheng lives a pure life.
All summer I trudged wet roads,
leaving villages and memories behind.
By autumn I reached the foot hills
and labored upward
as colored leaves swirled down.
Breathless, I looked up and saw
peak against peak against peak
and the narrow road disappearing
into mist and snow.
Now, at the beginning of winter,
I have reached Li Cheng's Temple.
Barren winds have stripped the trees.
Green trees have become thorn trees.
They are skeletons clinging to dead rock,
their branches are the shattered bones.
The Temple rises, in its dark beauty,
from a nearby summit. A stone slab
marks the memory of my friend.
I cry with the ten thousand things.
1890 painting of a path just stopping in the midst of a wheat
field with many crows winging above it. Dark beauty, indeed.
Dear Daniel, I know you were only going for a simple imagery poem but...You went far beyond that! Your poem not only showed me the painting but it told me a story! I must say, that is quite impressive to me because I've never experienced that before, but I suppose the two do go togther, don't they? Painting and poetry? I think so. If anyone dissagrees then they should read your poem! Excellent job! Sincerely, -SOH
A long journey started in spring and ending in winter in search of salvation, your destination being Li Ching's Temple! It is situated at an alarming height with a narrow road winding upwards and losing itself in mist and snow! Yet, nothing can dissuade you from struggling upwards and finally you reach the temple! The description of the 'dark beauty' against the back ground of the wind driven and frost bitten trees is so arresting! Again I see here the course of a pilgrimage spanning across a man's entire life! This poem has a mysterious charm! ! Enjoyed! !
A beautiful word-painting, and adding emotion vibrating trough seasons -makes it delightful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 6:58:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A stone slab Marks the memory of my friend I cry with the ten thousand things- - - An inexplicable beauty in this poem that holds my breath.