Red Pine's Path into the Heart of Buddhism
By Roy Hamric
“All great texts contain their potential translation between the lines; this is true to the highest degree of sacred writings.”
—Walter Benjamin, The Task of the Translator.
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#3087 - Monday, February 25, 2008 - Editor: Gloria Lee
Nonduality Highlights - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights
Dancing With Words:
Red Pine's Path into the
Heart of Buddhism
By Roy Hamric
“All great texts contain their potential translation
between the lines; this is true to the highest degree of sacred
writings.”
—Walter Benjamin, The Task of the Translator.
When I first saw Red
Pine’s translation of “The Poems of Cold Mountain,”
I remember thinking, “This is something important — who’s
this Red Pine?”
That was 1983. Two years later came the book that really shook up
the Buddhist literary community, Red Pine’s stunning,
self-published translation of The Mountain Poems of
Stonehouse, a tough-spirited book of enlightened free verse
— 300 poems chronicling the pains and pleasures of Zen
hermit life. The Stonehouse (Shih-wu) and Cold Mountain
(Han-shan) translations put a spotlight on Zen autobiographical
poetry unlike any books before.
Red Pine’s elegant hand-sewn, self-published translation of
“The Zen Teachings of Bodhidharma,” in a
Chinese red cover, followed in 1987.
Over the years, I avidly bought each new Red Pine translation:
Guide to Capturing a Plum Blossom (Sung Po-jen); Lao-tzu’s
Tao Te Ching; and his own Road to Heaven: Encounters
with Chinese Hermits, which put contemporary flesh on early
Zen hermit life.
My curiosity about the man who calls himself Red Pine grew with
each new book. But facts about his life were clouded in dust
jacket blurbs: he lived in the mountains overlooking Taipei in a
small farm community called Bamboo Lake; he was connected somehow
with Empty Bowl press in Port Townsend, Washington.
Eventually his American name, Bill Porter, appeared on one of his
books. Red Pine: Bill Porter. But, no more — none of the
American Buddhist magazines, which proliferated during the ‘80s
and ‘90s, were of any help.
From the first, his
translations seemed inspired. I held his books differently. There
was a feeling of verisimilitude, rare in translation. His choices
and love for the writers he translated filled a hole in my view
of Chinese Zen writers. I felt connected to his poets as real
people.
My admiration grew for the role of the translator who passes on
obscure, subtle Zen texts and poetry. The translator is the
invisible presence in the equation between writer and foreign
reader. In translating (trans-relating) a text from one language
to another, they serve as a supreme amanuensis who bridges
language and brings writers and foreign readers together. Red
Pine’s out-of-the-main-stream work is canny and clearheaded,
and it has immeasurably enhanced Zen/Taoist literature and
practice.
continued at: http://www.kyotojournal.org/interviews/redpine.html
Thanks to Mark Scorelle of Wisdom-l for this article.
The "Mountain Poems" (Shan-shih) of Ch'ing-hung (1271-1352), or, Stonehouse, share many similarities with the poems of other Chinese and Japanese Zen-monk hermits. But the voice of Stonehouse is exceptional in revealing many details of a hermit's daily life and his hut.
Stonehouse was not a wanderer, artist, or formal poet, nor a reclused official or fugitive. He was a monk, educated and well-studied in Buddhism under several masters. For a while he served as a meditation master and for many years as a monastery abbot, acquiring an excellent reputation. But nothing suited him like the freedom of the mountains -- in this case the Hsiamushan (or Zhongnan) in eastern China -- and it was here, towards the end of his life, that he composed one-hundred and eighty-four verses he called "Mountain Poems."
Ch'ing-hung wrote the "Mountain Poems" in a burst of inspiration, fired with memory and insight, a sudden productive feat. In the preface, he notes:
Some monks have asked me to recall what I find of interest on this mountain. I have sat here quietly and let my brush fly. Suddenly this volume is full.
The poems are a mix of mundane and lofty, though Stonehouse never intends his pithy advice as lofty. Yet the mundane becomes lofty beneath his experienced gaze. The more outstanding reading, however, may be of the details of his life and hut. Daily life and survival from building to planting to food, clothing, nature and the seasons, are all well represented.