About Articles Poetry Video Images Services Events
Edited Words: 152,263
Articles: 180
Poems: 52
Videos: 25
Images: 10

February 6, 2006



Bodhidharma by Yoshitoshi, 1887

I sit on the grassy hill on the other side of the street. Merchants pay homage in passing, not knowing the treasure within. I look at your beautiful, wise old temple; I marvel at the sweeping roof; at the golden discs and the jewel-bells. I sit here contentedly day after day. Every few days you take a peek at me; you think I'm cute.

I sit through rain, and sun, and snow. I eat only what is given. I came from a distant land; some say Persia; some say South India. I seem to be seeking, but you called for me. Sitting upright, I bring a concealed gift. I want to be invited into your most sacred place.

Footnote: This poem is about Bodhidharma who, according to Shaolin tradition, was the founder of Zen Buddhism. He arrived at the Shaolin temple on Mount Song and sat outside patiently for nine years until they let him in. He brought them Zen Buddhism as well as Shoalin Kung-Fu.


Font: S M L
Receive by email:
Designed by Duncan Riach RSS Feed Icon   Site Map Copyright © 2006 Duncan Riach. All rights reserved.