The Waters of The West River

If your eyes see,

And ears hear,

Not a doubt you'll cherish - 

How naturally the rain drips

From the eaves!

The spring is come, softly blows the wind,

The peaches and apricots are in full bloom.

The dews are thick in the autumnal nights,

The leaves fall from the paulownia tree.

The flowers, the maple leaves in autumn,

And the wintry snows covering the field all white - 

How beautiful they are each in its way!

I for my attachments still did not go beyond

the sensuous (for I know now what Reality is).

Inside the sacred fence before which I bow

There must be a pond filled with clear water;

As my mind-moon becomes bright

I see shadow reflected in the water.

Wherever and whenever the mind is found

attached to anything,

Make haste to detach yourself from it.

When you tarry for any length of time

It will turn again into your old home town.

Abandon all the arts

You have learned

In swordsmanship,

And in one gulp

Drink up all the waters of the West River.

I thought all the time

I was learning how to win;

But I realize now:

To win is no more, 

No less, than to lose.

In the well not dug,

In the water not filling it,

A shadow is reflected;

And a man with now form, no shadow

Is drawing water from the well.

A man with no form, no shadow,

Turns into a rice pounder

when he pounds rice.

- From Bujutsu Sosho, Collected Works on Swordsmanship (1925)