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SÁCH AMAZON


Mua bản sách in

Recited September 2003, revised by the author, printed February 2004
Poetry Recitation: Thuy Vinh, Ngo Dinh Long & Doan Yen Linh
Music Band: Thach Cam: Zither, Thuy Hanh: Dan Bau & Thanh Binh: Bamboo Flute


The sea of the mind is vast and green
Profound wisdom, pure and mysterious
A bamboo raft sails through the land
Bringing the path of Prajna, the boat of the true heart
Holding the dream of a hundred years on my pillow
Love, the path of my thoughts, returns in indifference
Half way following the moon dream
Half like dead silent on the heavenly book

The Heart Sutra crosses the waves without vanity
Waves like a dream from far away
Holding Why be sad in the middle of the flowing stream
Thousand years of silent water surface

Red thread pulls the needle
Weaving and weaving the reincarnation of karma
Flower sutras the wonderful path
Opening the holy footsteps to move the path of the heart

Great compassion Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara
Surpassing the holy mind, the same as the void
Eyes of compassion are fresh like red sunlight
Green thoughts of dew drops in ivory leaves

Thousand flowers' sorrow is faint
Hearing like tears, fading dew
Zen door opens, clouds drift
Zen forest spreads the fragrance of the wordless sky

Illusionary incarnation appears on the sandbank
On the green leaf, the soul of the grass and trees
No matter the ten directions, east or west
The whereabouts of a flying bird in the sky

The sun-shaped robe flutters in the human world
The lullaby warms the cradle for many days
Whose soul is wandering here
The sound of coal cracking rocks stirs flocks of swallows

Tomorrow, I will step into this world
The meaning of the leaves and the dreamy shape of flowers
A hundred years of golden dreams
A thousand years of mist remains

The human heart is like a flap of wind
The human body is a drop of water in whose hand
In the heart of the immense great path
A thousand scriptures suddenly appear as a drifting cloud

Thin as a thread of smoke rising to the sky
Words like an echo in the early life
The scriptures turn into a line of poetry
Breaking the cold, indifferent vein of a dream

Soaring high with a thousand stars
Blooming each planet petal in the night
Equal mind, natural wisdom
Ten directions of Buddha land, a land of grass and flowers

Then tomorrow the tears fall
Changes in the midst of the storms of a thousand directions
Ivory hands, white bones, lonely
Ivory sleep, drooping hair, sad roots of sorrow
Where was I born, where did I die?
The illusory body is a color of mist
Remaining in a dream of sorrow
The heart is lost in the half-moon of the golden moon (1)

Looking out at the graves, row after row
Who lit the candles in the hazy night
White shirt fluttering in the infinite world
Drifting on the sea of mulberry trees, a region of dreams

The branches of dew fall, the branches are thin and withered
Last night still sleeping in the peach garden with a western roof
The slope tilts, the flowers fly
The yellow fades on the broken string

Oh, what a strange dream
Where have I lost my way since countless lifetimes
The moon and stars close, the sun sets
In the midst of a storm, two regions are divided in sorrow

Calling the person at the end of the river bank of delusion
Letting the leaf drift to a certain shore
The bird sings under the peach tree
The bird drops tears into the empty moon (2)

The flower is still fresh, the moon breeze
Transforms into a wisp of smoke around the finger
Oh, what a dream
The fallen flowers are swept away, the leaves fly away

Holding the fairy tale page, holding back words
All around is silent, what sorrow for each other
Oh, where does the water flow?
But the old stream bed, the bridge, lies bare

Sun and moon sink, exposed to sun and rain
Let the waves beat on both banks, coming and going
The blue scripture, the ferry trip across
The truth is soaked with golden tears
Opening up the illusion of love
Opening up the illusion of the true body
The stream of sorrow is a stream of the heart
Drifting on the sandbanks of the sea of suffering
Not coming from anywhere to anywhere
The illusory body transforms into a sea of mulberry
The golden flowers on the tips of the hair bloom
On the red leaves at the end of the river of delusion

Standing on the top of the misty night
In the morning, drying clothes on the other side of life
In and out the change
Coming and going like the water flowing down the bridge

From thousand years to thousand years
Earthly footprints bloom with the fresh color of grass and flowers
The quiet melody of birdsong
Life and death are like half a wing falling at the head of a cliff

Combining with the soundless stream
Early tomorrow, the fragrant magnolia branch blooms again (3)

Then the pistils and petals fade
The fragrance floats on the golden silk thread at the end of the village
The eternal truth appears in the midst of impermanence
The Tathagata returns to the morning, the dew drops in the mist

Dispersing on the peak of the eternal slope
The flower leaves open and close, singing a lullaby
It is nothing, it is wonderful
When it dissolves, when it unites, that's all for life

Tomorrow on the peak of drifting clouds
Colorless form turns into a series of soundless laughter
The armless layer weaves a silk cocoon
Bringing golden flowers to spread across nine layers of the old homeland

The robe flies back to the dreamless realm
The ivory moon pours drops through the loose hair

The true nature soaks the leaves on the source
Dissolves in formlessness, ending the bird's path
Then the apricot blossoms in the fairy garden
Then the illusion appears in hundreds of regions of flowing water

False body, false form in the sky
False mind, false scene, sweet original words
Following the endless transformations
Crying and laughing, echoes of a dreamy flower region

Empty nature bows to the form of emptiness
Old hair turns into strands of pink sunlight, warming lips
Returning to the cassava field, smiling
Love the words of leaves singing at the foot of the echoing hill vang

The true body appears on the Bodhimandala
The footprints of the pupil blossom into golden buds (4)
The solemnity of the countless lands
The scriptures are dark with bright ink marks

Loosely letting go of the bow, looking far away
The pink horse on the green beach also slows down its rhythm
Returning to the jade mountain, releasing its sails
Riding across the northern sea, down the sandbanks to the south

Paradise turns into blue smoke
Thousands of fairies turn into butterflies flying across the sky
Silently listening to the grass leaves sighing
The sound of a small worm singing a wordless song

Listening in the breath of sunset
Somewhere the veins of the earth burst open, the roots sprouting
Ask if you are the self or the person
Who returns under the moon, the footprints of the golden summer?

The dream of green leaves on thousand
The sound of a white crane under a sparse willow row
The old stream flows with a golden thread
Through the sea of mourning, a jade scripture appears

The sun returns silently
Bright on the top of the illusion of a virtual body
Opening the chest of jade and gold brocade
The stream of incense falls and sinks silently

Oh, the moon is still the same
Thousand years reflect the lake water and reflect a single circle
Oh, the golden lotus bud
The fragrance of the heavenly paradise has not yet stopped

On the green floor, a rose bud blooms
Birds fly back to their nests, smoke circles the horizon
Oh, tears are full
Falling in a dream, a golden butterfly flies over the hill

Dew drops show a wonderful appearance
Transformation The stream of nectar in the hand
Which leaf is not a western branch
Which willow branch is not a yellow squash vine

The void opens the door to the Bodhimandala
The Heart Sutra is the flowing water of the great river
Not separate but also not shared
The hand embraces the three realms into the heart of the true heart

The rattan thread is used to make a hammock to lie on
The verse becomes a silkworm frame to play with
The silk flies to cover the mountains and hills
Entering the human world, the sunlight shines brightly

The hand of a flower bud blooms pink
Wound on the sleeve of the impermanent garment to give to each other
Then tomorrow the sea is wide and the mountains are high
Then tomorrow under the puddles and on the moats, they will also be shocked

The self-nature of sound shines brightly
Empty like a clear green lotus stem pond

Rattan thread is used to weave a hammock to lie on
Poetry is used to make a silkworm frame to play
Ears hear the sound of the wind lulling
Returning to the leaves of the trees and telling the words of the flower sutra

Thousands of miles of deserted beaches and distant sandbanks
Turns out to be a holy land where the moon sways

Buddha's body appears in this world
The formless sutra page flows full of poetry
Five ancient jade crowns
Returning to the land of sun and rain

Clenching hands, not knowing where to send them
What land does not have Amitabha pearls

The crane of old sleeps under the yellow flower tree
Returning to play across the mountain, letting the sunset fly
Like a dream turning into a morning dream
Transforming into an illusory form on the sad strings

Wind and rain give several rushes
Swept away by the torrent of rain from the source alone
The heavenly official asks near and far
But here the shadow falls on the winding road

Though the winter wind does not bloom
But the green buds are not far from this root
Oh, deep and shallow, full and empty
Like a stream of illusions set up for play

Sleeping on the shining star
Early tomorrow I will return to the blue sky
Then tomorrow the poem will turn into a sutra
Then tomorrow the crane shirt will form a flower platform

Which grass is green at the March festival
The poem will gather tears of a thousand flowers into life
The green silk of Nhuoc Da is exposed to the sun
The pink grass of the Han River sinks and falls on the land of Ho

What scene is different from a dream scene
Every person will eventually have a couple The shore of union and dissolution
What land is not a place of practice
What words are not golden words of preaching the sutras

Silent on the peak of sound
Breaking the green layer reveals the Buddha's body
The mind returns to rest in the void
The sutras seep into the ground, revealing the true body

The traces of the past each step stops
The rain falls, the hair is tangled, the rain is trapped in a dream
Two hands holding half a line of poetry
Crossing the bridge and falling on the green water bank

Tomorrow I will return and take off my life and death shirt
Hung on the bamboo top of the bank to play
Children giggle and laugh
The white silk threads of the clouds in the sky in the seventh lunar month

Where does the incense smoke go?
The sutras are a fishing boat to cross the stream

Rowing on the sea suffering of emptiness
Rowing through the three realms of mind with boundless unity
Rowing back to bathe in the sacred moon stream
Rowing up to the top and down to the flower land

Hands shining with green branches of falling stars
Bringing back to the world of this world to give to each other
Transformed into pearls of the past
Hidden in the corner of the dream shirt of the days

Original from the beginning
Green forest, leaves and trees naturally revealed
Streams singing songs of Zen mountains
The moon hangs a fairy shoe above the thousand (5)

Mind does not flap its wings of nirvana
Wisdom does not return to ask about the Bodhimandala
Compassionate intention is profound and boundless
Returning to the myriad dharmas, blooming golden chrysanthemums

The true nature of emptiness
Blooming on the sea of mulberry seeds Tathagata's gold
The sun and moon, the sideburns
The formless body, no trace of the body

Returning to the top of the green mountains
Transforming into a pink swallow in the western sky
Then tomorrow the dust and sand will still fly
Then tomorrow the universe will still be as vast as the sea of mulberry

The person returns to the peak of the Ngau flowers
Glistening tears the color of sunlight
Love the water that splits into a thousand paths
When will I return to the source of the ancient waterfall

The road of clouds and miles of green spring dreams
The wind carries back half a heavenly book
The dying fire has now stopped, the remaining sound
The boat spreads the moonlight and carries the feet back

Hands holding a string of fragrant Bodhi flowers
The golden brown wood is imbued with the scent of the homeland, bewildered
Which hand on the strings
Which hand opens the door of the golden dust cave

‘ Wandering in this market town
Where to find the days gone by
Where to find the flower-bud dress
Thousand-petaled peony blooms the sound of the zither

Sixteen-stringed golden pipa
Never reconnecting the rows of melodies
Waking up, empty-handed
Smiling by the waterfall that divides the two paths

The hand is upside down, awake and in a daze
How can I hold on to the oath of yesterday
Well, then return the leaves and flowers
Let the poetic stream bloom into Bodhi

The bird remembers the apricot blossom
Flying back over the mountain, sleeping on the tree
The heart is like a floating cloud
Waiting to hear the tip cool breeze flows down the mountain

Going to the field to sing a love song
Opening the full moon in my hand
Lighting incense and bowing once
For the green mountains and the full rivers

For the thousands of rice branches to bloom
For the reed flags to stand parallel to the wall
The old moon, whether broken or whole
Different from the shadow falling under the blue mountain cliffs

Immense heaven and earth, holy and profane
Coming together to the same moon, drifting
The sky is calm, the earth is also peaceful in dreams
The mark of a crane soaring on a fairy flower

Falling into a thin mist of incense smoke
Entering the thin mist that lingers on the wings of love
Embodying the mind and virtue of a thousand green
Immersing the purple ink around the flower sorrow

The Eagle flaps its wings in the starry night
Soaring, leaving behind a golden verse
Returning to the vast dreamland
On its wide wings, a thousand stars spread out

Thousands behind the mountains are still the same color
Privately, the vast earth and the sky are several levels high
Breaking apart the illusion of the illusory body
The echo of laughter seems to be lost

The arrow flies high above the sun
Stacking on the top of the brilliant void
The mountain of flowers opens the true nature festival
Let's make an appointment from the heart

In the garden, the chrysanthemums bloom
Let's invite each other to grow pink grass on the dew
The ivory moon pours a cup of quynh tuong
It turns out that the stream of verses is always flying up.

From Hoa Nhat Tue Tam

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