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One Robe, One Bowl: The Zen Poetry of Ryokan

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ONE ROBE, ONE BOWL : The Zen Poetry of Ryokan, translated and introduced by John Stevens. 85 pp. New York and Tokyo : Weatherhill, 1977 and reprinted.

If you have already read John Stevens 'Mountain Tasting : Zen Haiku by Santoka Taneda,' you will certainly want to read 'One Robe, One Bowl.' And if you haven't yet read Stevens translations of Santoka, you'll want to after reading the present work. Both are beautiful books, and it's a pity that more people don't seem to find their way to them.

John Stevens, who was born in Chicago, has lived in Japan since 1973. He is an ordained Soto Zen priest, has served as a member of the Buddhist Studies Department and as an akido instructor at Tohoku College in Sendai, and is competent in both Japanese and Chinese.

Stevens tells us in his brief, interesting, and informative Introduction that Ryokan's "verses are fresh and direct, without ornamentation or ostentation" (page 18), and that he has tried to reproduce this in his translations. He seems to me to have succeeded brilliantly. Of the approximately 1000 Chinese and 400 Japanese-style poems that Ryokan left, Stevens has given us wonderfully readable translations, in a spare and colloquial English, of 100 of the former and 103 of the latter. Once having read them, I don't think you'll ever forget them.

Ryokan (1758?-1831) is one of Japan's best-loved poets, and Stevens has managed to pack an awful lot about him into his brief 10-page Introduction. He tells us that Ryokan was born in the "snow country" of Echigo Province on the west coast of Japan. His family was fairly prosperous, the atmosphere in his home was literary and religious, and at the age of about nineteen, possibly as the result of some inner spiritual crisis, he decided to become a Buddhist monk and entered the local Zen temple, Kosho-ji.

It was at this time that he took the name 'Ryokan' - 'ryo' signifying good; 'kan' signifying generosity and largeheartedness. It would be difficult to think of a more appropriate name than 'Good Heart' for the kind of person that Ryokan was, and it goes a great way towards explaining the great love the Japanese have for him. In him we find the heart of the mother - one who doesn't judge, one who understands, one who accepts and loves us as we are and for what we are - but in Ryokan's case one whose love extended to the whole universe and its myriad beings, whether human, animal, or plant, even the inanimate.

After twelve years of Zen training, Ryokan left Kosho-ji and began a series of pilgrimages that lasted five years. He then returned to his native village, found an abandoned hermitage nearby, and was to spend most of the rest of his life there, meditating, writing, and interacting with the world around him. Stevens writes:

"While his hermitage was deep in the mountains, he often visited the neighboring villages to play with the children , drink sake with the farmers, or visit his friends.... He respected everyone and bowed whenever he met anyone who labored, especially farmers. His love for children is proverbial among the Japanese. Often he spent the entire day playing with the childen or picking flowers, completely forgetting his begging for that day.... He was continually smiling...." (page 12).

The poems he wrote are largely concerned with events in his daily life, and can be read with enjoyment by anyone. Seemingly simple, they conceal real depths, depths that will be apparent to those familiar with Zen and with Buddhist ideas such as 'no-mind' and 'impermanence,' and with certain Buddhist symbols. But a knowledge of these is not really necessary to enjoy the poems, since Ryokan's main appeal is to our humanity, something we all share. Here is an example of one of the Chinese poems:

"Once again, the children and I are fighting a battle using spring grasses.
Now advancing, now retreating, each time with more refinement.
Twilight - everyone has returned home;
The bright, round moon helps me endure the loneliness" (page 35).

Here is one of the Japanese poems:

"Awakened by the cold - a light snow falls;
the sound of wild geese.
They also are returning home with hardship and suffering" (page 59).

Sometimes it seems to me that much of modern literature is a literature of confusion. But what Ryokan has to offer is a literature of clarity.

Ryokan was fully human. He had established contact with reality. His love and compassion were infinite. In this he becomes a model for us all.

This book has to rate as one of the most beautiful I have ever read. John Stevens does a masterly job of turning into English the original Japanese poetry. Ryokan's compassion and simplicity are retained, along with his penetrative insight into the human condition.

What a beautiful work this is all around. John Stevens translates this work brilliantly. This isnt a cold hard scholastic translation. This is a warm and touching work from two people, from two very different times, meeting at the heart of a timeless matter. There are a lot of reviews saying great things about this book. It lives up to all of them and more.

This book is full of poems touching on the completely ordinary matter, of everyday life. This everyday life wich contains everything we need/yearn for, yet almost always overlook. Ryokan was sort of an anti-establishment Zen student. Since establishments often usurp power and any value from things like Zen, leaving only inflated ego's ruling over cynical minds. Needless to say Ryokan wanted no part of this. Wich is why he lived mostly alone in the often freezing mountians.

He often writes of sheer loneliness. Wich makes some people question his enlightenment. I think this is a very important point. Cause it shows how cold and unbending some peoples view of Zen/enlightenment actually is. Whos to say an enlightened person cant feel lonely? Because Japans greatest master Dogen never wrote of lonliness? Many masters of the past lived in monasteries full of students. If anything they probably had very little time alone. Nowheres near enough time to develope any "lonley feelings." Hardly a fair comparison, that of Ryokan who lived in a little mountain hut, to a master of hundreds of disciples. Silly, but it doesnt seem to be too rare. I think this same thing that makes some Zen scholars cricital, is what makes Ryokan so beloved by everyone else who knows of him. He not only felt a gamut of emotions but completely accepted them as a dynamic part of life. Often writing beautifully about them as in this book. Ryokan shows us a Zen life doesnt have to be a sterile and emotionless one.

Thats not to say he was a complete hermit, he was very fond of the common man especially the children of surrounding villiages. Wich is what these poems are all about. Playing with the children in the "grasses" (he was sometimes criticized by other adults for this.) Walking along uneven mountain trails. Gazing at misty bamboo groves with various creatures scurrying about. Drinking sake with the villagers from time to time. Gathering supplies for his mountain hut. Writing poems and/or caligraphy for people when they would visit his him.

These are the everyday events as well as many others wich these poems speak of. You will feel as if you are sitting next to Ryokan while hes writes of the moon shining through the window, or the smoke rising from a single stick of incense.

Although Ryokan was a Zen master in his own right, he isnt lecturing or preaching anything in his poetry. He never seemed to talk of Zen, practice or philosophy (although he seemed to take his own practice seriously.) His poems will appeal to anyone for there descriptive naturalness and down to earth feel. In a few simple lines, Ryokan shares his fascinating daily life with us. I would highly recommend this book for anyone even halfway into poetry or a spiritual and aware life. Poetry at its best. Enjoy!

John Stevens not only provides masterful translations of the work of Ryokan - he distills the life of the man in the concise introduction.

The translations of these poems dealing primarily with daily life capture the depths seemingly without effort. Between that and the compassion that translates with the work, this volume has to be in the curriculum of all lovers of poetry.

Truly zen in action.

Ryokan renounced the "world" and became a Buddhist monk, and then hermit. He lived in a tiny hut in a rural area and walked to nearby villages to beg for food. He did this all of his adult life and lived into his 80s.

His poetry is pure and centered on his ascetic existence. The translation reads easily and has some explanations when necessary for unfamiliar words.

The overriding impression is of a man in love with solitude but also lonely. There are some poems filled with emotion, yet by and large the writing is spare and disciplined and will satisfy you if you like haiku and related forms.

His own poetry and reports about him depict him as an enlightened practitioner of his religion, able to be completely in the moment, sensual and undistracted. Also, a bit absentminded -- leaving a friend waiting while he became distracted by the moon for an hour or more.

I will include one poem of his which I feel captures the spirit or tone of his work:

THE BAMBOO grove in front of my hut!
Every day I see it a thousand times
Yet never tire of it.

I have been eager to read this book for some time, hearing that it was perhaps the greatest example of a literary monk living out the wabi sabi ideal. I think it may well be, but I was surprised by a few things.

Animals occur in his poems, but they feel indistinct, like part of a lovely background for solitude, or to represent a mood. They are not celebrated in and of themselves, like Issa might do. People -- playing with children and drinking with farmers, seem more real and important to this self-proclaimed recluse.

The wabi existence (cold, hard, and hungry) certainly looses it's romantic blush in these poems. the dominant sense I get is not blissful immersion in silence and solitude but rather cold lonely disappointment. Loneliness and coldness are especially well captured.

both the translator and the woman who preserved and first compiled much of his work wanted to "Make known his spirit and way of life." I think what they are referring to is his acceptance of impermanence and his spirituality centered on sabi -- the lovely lonely mood or melancholy feeling we have when we see a thing for what it is. Direct awareness of reality in all its unvarnished and surprising facets.

This is my favorite book of all time... beautiful, deep, touching poetry... I usually buy 10 copies , as it goes out of print from time to time.. and my friends keep taking mine... down to two now...

if you like, zen... and nature... you'll love this

This is a fantastic book of Ryokan poems that is hard to put down. These poems have a feeling to them of coming from a true Master of the Buddha's teachings. The translator helps by staying away from analyis and interpretation and lets Ryokan speak for himself to us through the words. You feel his joy and his sadness as well as his love of solitary forest life and meditation. There is nothing but a wonderful little book of Ryokan translations that lovers of Zen or Zen poetry will turn to again and again.

Zen Master Ryokan!
Like a fool, like a dunce
Body and mind completely dropped off!

This is another great translation of Ryokan by John Stevens. So many in their reviews have shown their respect and love for Ryokan who "is replete with MUSHIN, the mind without calculation or pretense, and MUJO, the sense of impermanence of all things".
Ryokan (1758? -1831) was a Japanese poet, Zen buddhist and one of the greatest calligraphers of all time in East Asia. In his early twenties he became the disciple of top Soto Zen Roshi Kokusen and trained diligently as a Zen monk. When Kokusen died in 1791, Ryokan left on a long pilgrimage, wandering all over Japan. In his early 40s he drifted back to his native place and spent the rest of his life in mountain hermitages. Near the end of his life he fell in love with a beautiful young nun Teishin who was by his side when he died at age 73. His hermitage Gogo-an on Mount Kigami still stands.

One Robe, One Bowl contains translation of his 100 chinese and 103 Japanese poems(101 Waka and 2 Haiku). Many of his poems are without titles and doesn't give us a reference to the time and place they were written. Ryokan frequently broke the rules of poetry composition. His poems are simple, direct and very poignant. His poetry is about love of nature, local children, rice wine and living a simple life. His beloved Teishin compiled the first edition of Ryokan's poems, titled Hachisu no Tsuyu ("Dew drops on a Lotus Leaf") four years after his death, which has also been brilliantly translated by John Stevens.
Both these books are a must read. Ryokan's poems refresh you, make you look around and under your feet. You notice everything from sun to clouds, birds and insects, trees, wind and rain, and his great love - Moon. I highly recommend reading them in a natural spot, where there are trees, flowers, flowing water and birds. You will find yourself drifting in and out of his poems and nature and back. Almost surreal.

Once you have read them again and again, add to your collection Ryokan's favorite poet, the Chinese sage Han Shan (Cold Mountain), also available on Amazon.

The words of Ryokan point to the heart of Japanese esthetics and spirit. You can not part the Zen attitude in most of his poetry from the very essence of his comprehension of nature and man. One of my favorite waka he'd written is :

Early spring - picking vegetables
a pheasant cries-
Old memories return.

The Wabi- Sabi mood and the Miyabi atmosphere are well recognizable in his poetry, and make the whole reading experience something much more intimate with his emotions and thoughts.

Another one of my favorite among Ryokan's waka songs is :

Lying in my freezing hut , unable to sleep;
only the quite roar
Of water pouring over a cliff.

Reading his book even a song a day will make you want to meet the good hearted Ryokan and share some tea with him in a cold winter day..
sure made me want to...

I'm embarrassed to confess I don't like most poetry. But in an oft-quoted line, Ryokan tells us, "My poems are not poems." Perhaps that's why I'm entranced by the verses of this hermit-poet who lived in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.

Translator John Stevens assures us in his charming introduction that he hasn't adulterated Ryokan's verse with any poetic expressions or courtly refinements. Certainly these verses seem pure and fresh to my ear.

In these unpretentious poems Ryokan invites us to relive a moment with him. He chronicles himself unable to sleep in his mountain hut, listening to the sound of the freezing rain; reading the poems of the ancients while the snow falls thick and fast outside his door; receiving a visit from a friend and joyfully taking out ink and brush; picking spring vegetables with the local kids.

Although Ryokan does occasionally allude to a sutra or toss off some gem of wisdom, the Zen of his poetry has more to do with the immediacy of his everyday experience. When he's having fun, he's having fun. "I have entrusted myself to sake and flowers," he frankly admits. When he's lonely, he says so. After all, it's the human condition. Ryokan is fully awake to every nuance of nature, including human nature.

This little book offers a selection of Ryokan's Chinese style poems and his Japanese waka and haiku. It does not include the love poems exchanged between the aging Ryokan and the young nun Teishin, but you can find these in another little book entitled Between the Floating Mist. I'd recommend getting both collections for a rich experience of Ryokan.