David Hinton

Another dualistic snag? Or so real? How will we each face our own life? Our death, our life, death, non-separation.

David Hinton's version of the Blue Cliff Record verse goes like this.

In awakened perception, there's no longer this me and that other, no longer a mirror holding rivers and mountains in its gaze.

Frost-laden skies, moon sinking low now, midnight,

We both have copies of Transient Worlds on Translating Poetry in front of us here.

I'm curious if you could read your translation of Drinking Wine, and then I will read David Hinton's translation of Drinking Wine.

Wonderful.

So here's mine.

In this there is a truth.

I wish to tell you, but lose the words.

All right, and this is David Hinton's translation.

I live here in this busy village without all that racket horses and carts stir up, and you wonder how that could ever be.