Strike of innocence

25 June 2009

Our shoes worn off
still on the path – completion
just one breath away.


Strike of innocence

Written after discovering the personality of Mas Oyama / Choi Bae Dal, the founder of Kyokushin Karate:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Up2Jt_ErIc&feature=related

There is an area of absolute innocence in every single being – which never gets destroyed, but just covered, wrapped up in clouds of ignorance.

A truthful strike or attack in martial arts shall be such that you hold to that place of innocence, by going deep inside yourself, letting your attention dissolve into it. Then any attack, any blow, any movement of your sword or jo are gestures of salutation: from your rediscovered innocence, to the innocence in your “fighting” partners. By saluting innocence, ignorance is weakened and dissolved.

Each step on our path to enlightenment should be made in salutation to the innocence and the unblemished purity inside ourselves and the others, and with the intention of putting down ignorance – inside all our partners in growth.

My Neighbourhood’s Ecstasy

26 June 2009

Raindrops, tip, tap, tip,
smuggle bliss through this old coat -
laughing to the coulds.


I have lied today
just 108 times –
covered by the path.


The chrysanthemum
does not know the way poor leaves
shudder in the wind.


Here, too, somewhere,
hidden by the big, grey blocks,
the nightingale's song.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


I live like a nun,
my woods now, these bamboo blinds –
bliss visits here, too.


I do not miss now
the mountain, any longer –
concrete feels the same.


The void slips softly
into my brain, down the spine –
where to go, then, now?


Pure ecstasy,
this wind, tuning up my nerves
to reality.


My brother abuse
and my sister corruption –
two laughs, one humour.


My weapons are lost,
buried by him, who always
moves lower than me.


Scared once again,
when they got to see beauty
with no mask of taint.


The chrysanthemum
swirling on top of her head –
petals or soft roots?


What beauty is this,
willing to show no mercy
to my last poor thoughts?


Organic freedom –
moss or staircase, my soles
enjoy just the same.


When I’ve lied that day,
losing goodness, I’ve also
lost identity.


Today we caught hold
of the solitary bliss,
unknown wanderer.


When mother rainbow
visited the sky, sister
thunderbolt kept still.

Soare musafir

Soare musafir
vede cerul din iarbă -
ochi de brânduşe.

* * *

Ce mănăstire
se ascunde în ochii
care râd smeriţi?

* * *

Bătăi pe saltea -
dar zbârnâie în aer
râset de copii.

* * *

Rădăcinuţe
sfidând tăria stâncii -
ha, ha, ce-i timpul?

* * *

Căci nu cunoaşte

crizantema zbaterea

frunzelor în vânt.

* * *

Cântă şi aici,

undeva printre blocuri,

privighetoarea.

Final de mai, început de iunie

Pâş, pâş, un căţel
calcă uşor pe parchet -
Ici, doar tăcerea.


Pe un nor râde
un înger peltic - azi e
Întâi Iunie.


Gaiţele tac -
Şi ce lumină trece
de sus, printre crengi!


S-a deschis uşa,
împinsă de mirosul
de clătite, iam!


Atât de multă
iubire în ochii ei -
Biete cuvinte!


Misterioasa
soră din ceruri râde -
dans de fulgere.


Hai, ia-mi armele
şi fă-le praf, să-l poarte
lin, vântul de mai!


Păpădiile
trimit mesageri de puf -
Ce mesaj, oare?!


Acultă: ruga
a-nflorit în inimă.
Cocorii sunt sus!


Sub cer nimic nou...
Şi ce-ar putea să fie?
Doar vântul de mai!


Nu, şi nici asta!
a lepădat totul, sub
cascadă, în zori.


Azi, un pui de pin
prins între stânci - iar mâine
perfecţiunea!


Câteva pene
aruncate pe nisip -
Totuşi..., îngerii!