The Zen Heart of Clouds and Waters
Birds are singing in the empty mountain, and people and white clouds are perched together. The gurgling clear spring washes my heart, and the fish play in the deep pond.
The wind blows in the mountains and forests, and the moonlight shines on the flowers. The world of mortals is like a dream coming together and separated, full of emotion and sadness.
Looking at the darkness, I cherish the moon. It's hard to express my love for each other by sending a song to each other from afar.
The wind blows in the mountains and forests, and the moonlight shines on the flowers. The world of mortals is like a dream coming together and separated, full of emotion and sadness.
My heart is like a cloud of smoke, dancing in the air with long sleeves. People are thousands of miles away, my soul and dreams are always dependent on each other, and my beauty is empty.
It’s hard to wake up from a dream in Nanke, the old mountains and forests are empty. Listening to the ding-dong ding-dong of the clear spring seems unintentional. Reflecting my long night of silence.
Zen Heart of Clouds and Waters
(Wishes Are Like Songs)
The rolling curtains send the spring breeze, and the embroidered clothes are uniquely red. The round fan dances lightly and flutters against the flowing fireflies, and the light smile is stronger than spring.
Burning incense and playing guzheng, singing the dream of Jiangnan. People can know each other at the end of the world, and my heart is like the sun.
How much affection and love turned into gurgling water. How much sorrow and resentment are all put into laughter and conversation.
The rain stopped last night, and the willows on the broken bridge were green. A small boat floats across the lake, with gulls and herons accompanying them.
The flowers fall into the water silently, and the lovesickness is heavy in the dream. I asked you when we met after we said goodbye. The maple leaves were dyed red by frost.
The long scroll is endless, and the geese should travel far. The tide of the Spring River is endless, and the tears are crystal clear.
The love is in the sea of ??clouds, and the meaning is as sincere as an orchid. Youth destroys beauty, where can I find traces of beauty?
The fallen leaves dance in the autumn wind, and the amber is thick in the cup. The moonlight is like mercury and the stars are like dreams, where is the returning love.
The love is in the sea of ??clouds, and the meaning is as sincere as the orchid. Time destroys beauty inch by inch, where can I find traces of beauty?
Looking at the geese flying south, my soul returns to Wangfu Pavilion. When the chrysanthemums are planted all over the head, green cypresses accompany the green graves.
Part 3
The clouds are rolling and relaxing, and the moon is bright and people are leaning on the railing. The gurgling stream is clear and shallow, and the ancient temple bells ring far away.
The fog and dew wet clothes, and insects and fish have no sleep. The flowers are blurred and the night is still young. What year is it today?
Looking at my hometown across thousands of mountains, facing this bright moonlight. A song and a glass of wine, the heart is drunk and the other is forgotten.
When the wind blows, the flowers and shadows are scattered, and when the wind blows, the water is fragrant. The world of mortals is like a dream, like smoke, how many vicissitudes of life there are!
Where is the paradise? The water surrounds Fangdian and the fog is confusing.
The weeping willows are like smoke, and the flowers on the ridges are fragrant. There is no world far away from the world.
Floating dreams and bubbles are like dew and lightning, and should be viewed as such.
The dream drifts away with the flowing water and has not yet returned, not knowing the heaven and earth.
The clouds are rolling again, and the moon is in the middle of the water. Lotus leaves in the fields hold green umbrellas, and frogs make chaotic sounds in the pond.
The spring water tinkled and ivy climbed all over the window. The flowers bloom and fade, the grass turns green and yellow, and the light shines in a flash.
Birds flew across the cold pool in fright, and people's hearts were filled with excitement. The stars are accompanied by the moon and beside the white clouds, playing with each other and enjoying each other.
When the wind blows, the flowers and shadows are scattered, and when the wind blows, the water is fragrant. The world of mortals is like a dream, like smoke, and there are so many vicissitudes of life.
Where is the paradise? The water surrounds Fangdian and the fog is confusing.
The weeping willows are like smoke, and the flowers on the ridges are fragrant. It is a different world than this world.
Floating dreams and bubbles are like dew and lightning, and should be viewed as such.
The dream drifts away with the flowing water and has not yet returned, not knowing the heaven and earth.
Part 4 (Yu Xiaoyu)
The tide comes and goes, and the river gulls fly freely. The breeze brings coolness, and the moonlight reflects the earth.
Where the fragrance of flowers fills the air, the green trees are Bodhi. Life is like the moon floating in the water, and Zen is hidden deep in the heart.
Since ancient times, people have attached great importance to fame and wealth, which is a waste of energy. They all lamented that the gods were so carefree and could not give up their selfish motives.
There are many desires in this world, and disputes arise from time to time. Traveling alone in the treacherous world, a confidant is the hardest to find.
Listening to the flowing water, sometimes slowly and sometimes urgently, and watching the clouds are particularly charming. The moon waxes and wanes, and so does the human world.
Face success and failure calmly, without anger or joy. The night is like water, and the flow of water is aura.
The moon is like a round mirror, reflecting poetry, and the night is hazy and the world is quiet.
Chapter 5 (Jade Linlang)
The mist is hanging in the haze, the coolest place, the night is quiet, the birds are singing in the sky, and the clothes are wet with red dew.
The moon welcomes the shadows of flowers, and the wind brings mud. Secretly thinking about old happiness is like a dream, but now it is just a memory. 暚暚
It is hard to find it again in heaven and earth, and there is no way to express my love. I am leisurely holding the Yao Qin and composing old songs. I cannot look forward to the imperial hometown.
The strings are replaced by words. The garden is full of green day lilies, and the flowers are falling like rain. There is no news about people leaving.
Listening to the intermittent sound of jade leaking, the past events have passed like lightning.
Tonight or later, the spring light is lonely and silent, and sighing at the falling flowers seems sad.
Look at the green lamp shining on the wall, the red teardrops, and the grass smoke in the depths of Xiaohan.
The joy has disappeared with the flowing water, leaving no trace, and sighing at the falling flowers seems sad.
Chapter 6 (Snow Falling City)
The wind blows in the forest at night, and the bright moon shines among the pines. The gurgling clear spring flows up from the stone, and the clouds and water empty the mind of Zen.
In this vast world, everyone is just a passerby. Fame, fortune and wealth are just floating clouds, passing by without leaving a trace.
This heart has entered the Zen gate and no longer loves the mortal world. I hope there is an afterlife and I can sing the pipa again.
I have no love or hatred in my heart, I would rather be unkind to a beautiful woman. If we meet again in the next life, we will definitely live up to our mutual love.
The ancient palace of Qingdeng is deep, and you have entered Buddhism. Looking back on the past, you will have no love or hatred, and you will be free from the worldly heart.
The body is like a Bodhi tree, and the mind is like a mirror. The bamboo shadow sweeps the street without moving, and the moon passes through the water without leaving a trace.
The moonlit night was deep, and the monk returned and pushed the mountain gate. The rest of my life will pass by slowly, and there will be no worldly people in my sect.
The Qingdeng Ancient Palace is deep, and you can enter the void door. Looking back on the past without love or hatred, let go of the dusty heart from now on.
The wind blows in the mountains and forests at night, and the bright moon shines among the pines. The gurgling clear spring flows up from the stone, and the clouds and water empty the mind of Zen.
The lotus dips in the clear spring, and the ripples overlap in the heart. If there are allusions pregnant in it, the bodhicitta will be at peace.
The setting sun sings the rosy clouds, the wind blows the maple leaves into chaos, the colorless reveals the true nature of the sky, and penetrates the mist.
A night of wind and snow passed over the branches, and two and a half of the flowers fell. If you pick up even one of the fallen flowers, they will be buried among the flowers.
The clouds are spreading across the pines, and the morning bell will make your heart feel at ease. If your heart can focus on its true nature, it will penetrate the mundane smoke in the sky.
Bodhi should be untainted, and the fish talk in the clear stream. Fish and fish only seek peace of mind, ups and downs in one thought.
The morning dew makes the clothes cold, and the red clouds hide the mountain streams. The morning dew is half dyed with red clouds, and there is no dust or smoke.
Go to the village to sleep at night, it’s a rainy night, there are no frogs snoring, the sound of the bells of the ancient temple in the empty mountain is faint, and it can be heard continuously in the mountains.
Chapter 7
The cold moon is clear and frosty, the mist and rain are vast, the geese fly past the swallow clouds, and I feel sad and think twice.
Under the Naihe Bridge, the green lotus flowers are blooming, for whom is the beauty so beautiful and haggard? The alley is cold in the wind and rain.
Far away from the Hongqiao, the setting sun is setting, and the butterflies are dreaming. The green silk holds up the blue cloud tent, and the dream is finally a dream.
The purple bamboo umbrella turns yellow, my mind has no final song, and the ripples spread out the coolness, dots on the Xiaoxiang River.
The returning wild goose sings sadly, walking alone in the world, the reflection of the moon in the water, the sunset light,
Who knows, wherever you lie drunk, the snow will be desolate.
The Chinese song sheds tears, and the painting is hesitant, wondering when I will grow up with you. One day of floating life, the song ends with a cool sound, the moonlight is cold and frosty.
The sunset is setting, the flying dragon is alone, the spring red has faded, the tea has cooled, and the pearls are broken and fragrant.
Where can I find the prosperous beauty? I will be left alone and melancholy for the rest of my life.
Cangzhou egrets fly to Hunan with many colorful jade, and return home drunkenly with music.
Who is the mandarin duck in the drunken world? Living in the hazy clouds, gazing at the sky.
The wind dances in the setting sun, and the world is forever. The jade flute and the piano sound loudly.
A few fragrant faces, long filaments of sorrow, only one drop of three thousand weak water, hurt by the wind and the world of mortals.
Fragrance flows at the end of the world, and thoughts are endless. Why do we say goodbye so quickly when we meet, and feel sad after parting?
Bringing a beautiful woman, tears are still red, who is the east wind with. Pillowing in the south of the Yangtze River, dreaming of mist and rain, dim and lonely.
The clouds are soaring in the sky, the flowers have fallen, the harps and swords are curling up, the flowers are raining, and the fragrant mist is turning the corridor.
The faces are like paintings, and the music is like a screen. It's just a dream in the sky, playing with butterflies, and the past and present are empty according to the name.
But the mountains are far away and the mountains are full of roses. Hibiscus smiles at Xiaoshanqing and only remembers Manhuashuang.
The crimson light shines, the autumn rain clears, and the noble person is lost. On the bank of Qinhuai River, the moon is bright and frosty, and the people are like picturesque clouds and sun.
Returning home late at night, the wind is clear and the clouds are swaying. I have a few cold dreams in my pillow, and the setting sun is setting tonight.
The flowers on the other side are blooming all over the soul town, how could it be that it was by the Huangquan Road at that time.
How about ferrying, but just thinking about it, where is the dream and soul.
Now, just like the first meeting on a snowy night, how can a good dream be recalled in memory.
Looking away from the world, the past has been forgotten, and the mysterious Taoism is full of sorrow.
A few flying flowers, a piece of red dust, and finally a cold heart.
A boat is light, it can't tell the prosperity of several generations, it can't describe the dream garden,
The clear shadows in the water and sky, recalling the past, only remember, the frost stream is cold, the moon is Xi Ming.
Sing a song that will never leave the world.
Chapter 8
Hengqin is facing the empty mountain, so interesting that people forget their intentions. The pines and flowers are scattered in the wind, and the smoke and clouds do not touch their clothes.
The oriole in the flowers is not a bird, the body of the Zhuoquan is a fish, the bright moon comes into my arms, and the wind knows my will.
Asking the rushing water, what night is it today? Laughing at life and failure, it is unnecessary to look back.
My heart is always silent, and the white clouds are self-reliant. For whom I once shed tears, but now my silk is covered with frost.
After the song ended, I looked at the spring. I was completely speechless, letting the clouds roll and the water blur.
Who am I? . .
Chapter 9
People live in the sky in the mountains, the springs are clear and the water is green, the pines and flowers are scattered in the wind, and the smoke and clouds do not touch the clothes.
The yoyo warbler is not a bird, but the gurgling body is a fish. The bright moon comes into my arms, and the sky and wind know my will.
To the rushing water, what night is this? Laughing at life and failure, looking back is unnecessary.
My heart is always silent, and the white clouds are relying on themselves. For whom I once shed tears, but now my silk is covered with frost.
The boundless mountain scenery is illuminated by the moon, and the wind is gentle and the birds are singing.
As the clouds roll in the heart, the clouds and the water are faint, and the relatively clear shadow is speechless
. . . . . .
Chapter 10
The empty valley is filled with orchids, the white dew is sleeping at the end of the night, the fallen flowers and floating paths are full of fragrant clothes, the flowing water and the moon are dependent on each other;
The empty valley is filled with the sound of the flute, Starry pool rains every night. I lie down in the vast sky with my clear arms in my arms, listening to the wind and talking foolishly.
The reeds are deep and the water is flowing, and the body is like a fish; the fairy couple is surrounded by the sounds of the sky, and they are comfortable in the white clouds.
The flute is heard in the empty valley, and it rains over the stars every night. I lie down in the vast sky with my clear arms in my arms, listening to the wind and talking foolishly.
Looking at each other with souls in mind, the dreams of dust are blurred again. Thousands of promises are made. Whoever pays this favor will have his own affairs.
The stream of water flows gently, thousands of miles away. The wind and moon in the dream come and go indistinctly, and I can’t find any trace of this heart.
. . . . .
"Yunshui Zen Heart"
The sound of nature, like clouds and water, flows gently through the depths of the heart, ethereal and distant, refreshing.
The clouds and sky depend on each other, and the mountains and rivers are companions.
The clothes are fluttering, the clouds are flowing, the silk rain is flying, and the smoke is filled with smoke. They come faintly from the pool, and the mist opens. In it, like a clear spring washing away the dirt in the heart, the scattered thoughts will travel far away with the clouds and disappear forever with the water.
The mountains and forests are empty. Who has plucked the strings of the zither under the moon? It sounds like the wind is singing and the water is whispering.
With a flick of your finger, the little bits of silver fell into the pool, like beads falling on a plate, crisp and elegant.
In the blink of an eye, thousands of sails pass by.
The gentle breeze dawns, the cold moon is silent, the beautiful woman dances her sleeves lightly, and the endless lovesickness is scattered in the thousand-year sigh. In an instant, the shadows of flowers are intertwined. In the ripples of the water, the beauty turns into smoke traces and water traces. The stinging memory is hidden deep in the water and disappears with the flowers.
The faint heart, the faint feelings, seem to be in a dream. The beautiful woman once walked on the water, stepped on the moon, pulled out the clouds and pushed the fog.
The moon is in the water, the flowers are in the heart of the moon, the moon is broken when the pond moves, and the flowers are scattered and empty.
And condense the feelings in your heart into a string of exquisite voiceless sounds, and turn them into snowflakes flying all over the sky.
I pick up flowers in the clouds and smile, leaving or leaving without intention. A thousand-year dream, drunk by the gentle breeze.
Listen to the Zen mind, in a poetic environment, quietly watch the clouds roll in the sky, and watch the ebb and flow of life.
The gentle and clear singing voice flows slowly, the veins of life slowly become soft and relaxed under the infiltration of music, and those scars have been healed inadvertently.
In an instant, my heart is round and transparent, without any dust.
In the sky, there is a high tune; in the world, there is a low tune.
The setting sun shines on the quiet forest, the seagulls fly with the rosy clouds, and the bamboo raft plays a song, leaving the faint feelings in the mountains and rivers, becoming friends with the water, accompanying the clouds, loving the forest, and being attached to the mountains. Among the water and clouds, you can hear the chirping of birds and the fragrance of flowers, listen to the tinkling of spring water, and admire beauties clad in red, scattered in the green grass and green pools in the afterglow, which is pitiful.
The moon reflects Zen, the water in the heart plays on the piano, and the breeze is unintentional and affectionate. Clouds are the dream of water, water is the love of clouds, and a Zen heart is the shadow between water and clouds.