1. The Search for the Bull
In the pasture of this world, I endless push aside the tall
grasses in search of the bull.
Following unnamed rivers, lost upon the interpenetrating paths
of distant mountains.
My strength failing and my vitality exhausted, I cannot find
I only hear the locusts chirring through the forest at
2. Discovering the Footprints
Along the riverbank under the trees, I discover
Even under the fragrant grass I see his prints.
Deep in remote mountains they are found.
There traces no more can be hidden than one's nose, looking
3. Perceiving the bull
I hear the song of the nightingale.
The sun is warm, the wind is mild, willows are green along the
Here no bull can hide!
What artist can draw that massive head, those majestic
4. Catching the Bull
I seize him with a terrific struggle.
His great will and power are inexhaustible.
He charges to the high plateau far above the cloud
Or in an impenetrable ravine he
5. Taming the Bull
The whip and rope are necessary,
Else he might stray off down some dusty road.
Being well trained he becomes naturally gentle.
Then, unfetted, he obeys his master.
6.Riding the Bull Home
Mounting the bull, slowly I return homeward.
The voice of my flute intones through the evening.
Measuring with hand-beats the pulsating harmony, I direct the
Whoever hears this melody will join me.
7. The Bull Transended
Astride the bull, I reach home.
I am serene. The bull too can rest.
The dawn has come. In blissful repose,
Within my thatched dwelling I have avandoned the whip and
8. Both Bull and Self Transcended
Whip, rope, person, and bull--all merge in No-thing.
This heaven is so vast no message can stain it.
How may a snowflake exist in a raging fire?
Here are the footprints of the
9. Reaching the Source
Too many steps have been taken returning to the root and the
Better to have been blind and deaf from the beginning!
Dwelling in one's true abode, unconcerned with that
The river flow tranquilly on and the flowers are
10. In the World
Barefooted and naked of breast, I mingle with the people of the
My clothes are ragged and dust-laden, and I am ever
I use no magic to extend my life;
Now, before me, the dead tress become