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sunyatanun
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(11/4/03 1:53 pm)
Reply 		Ikkyu. Japanese Poet, Priest - (1394-1481).
Check this out... I am sure he is enlightened by the way. I originally found him in the book Zen Sex, and I am super happy to know that even advanced saints make love.

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Ikkyu and the Crazy Cloud Anthology: A Zen Poet of Medieval Japan (UNESCO Collection of Representative Works. Japanese Series)
by Ikkyu, Sonya Arntzen (Photographer), Sonja Arntzen

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In the depths of the boudoir, how much poetic inspiration.
Sing before the wind-blown flowers, this fragrant feast's purity.
Cloud-rain on the pillow, the feeling of river and sea.
Mandarin ducks spend their remaining life sleeping on the water.

On the first day of the ninth month, my attendant Mori borrowed a paper cloak from a village monk to protect herself from the cold. How fresh and lovable!

My hand , how it resembles Mori's hand.
I believe the lady is the master of loveplay;
If I get ill, she can care for the jeweled stem.
And then they rejoice, the monks at my meeting.

Blind Mori every night accompanies my singing;
Under the covers, mandarin ducks, intimate talk always new;
Promise anew to meet in the damn of Maitrya
Here at the home of the old Buddha, all things are in spring.

How painful, when physical attachment is very deep:
Suddenly everything is forgotten, prose and verse;
I never knew before this natural happiness;
Still delightful, the sound of the wind soothing my thoughts...

The Arhat has left the dust, no more desire.
Playful games at the brothel, so much desire.
This one is bad, this one is good.
The monk's skill, Devil-Buddha desire.

A beautiful woman, cloud-rain, love's deep river.
Up in the pavilion, the pavilion girl and the old monk sing.
I find inspiration in embraces and kisses;
I don't feel at all that I'm casting my body into flames.

Those who keep the rules are asses, those who break the rules are men.
With as many different names as the sands of the Ganges are the ways of teasing the spirit.
The newborn infant is bound with the threads of marital alliance.
How many springs have the scarlet blossoms opened and fallen?

Ten years spent in brothels, elation difficult to exhaust.
Now, forced to live amid empty mountains and gloomy valleys.
Thirty thousand miles of cloud spread between here and those delightful places;
The wind in the tall pines around the house grates upon my ears.

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