This Buddha chap was quite a poet. I would love to know the Sutras in Sanskrit where so elegant.
Buddha said:
'I consider the positions of kings and rulers as that of dust motes. I observe treasure of gold and gems as so many bricks and pebbles. I look upon the finest silken robes as tattered rags. I see myriad worlds of the universe as small seeds of fruit, and the greatest lake in India as a drop of oil on my foot.
I perceive the teachings of the world to be the illusion of, magicians. I discern the highest conception of emancipation as golden brocade in a dream, and view the holy path of the illuminated one as flowers appearing in one's eyes.
I see meditation as a pillar of a mountain, Nirvana as a nightmare of daytime. I look upon the judgement of right and wrong as the serpentine dance of a dragon, and the rise and fall of beliefs as but traces left by the four seasons.'
Old Japanese master Hoshin told his disciples: “It is not necessary for a Zen master to predict his passing, but if he really wishes to do so, he can.” “Can you?” asked a student. “Yes. I will show you what I can do seven days from now.”
None of the disciples believed him, and most had forgotten his words when he called them together again.
“Seven days ago, I said I was going to leave you. It is customary to write a farewell poem, but I am neither a poet nor calligrapher. One of you please inscribe my last words.”
His disciples thought he was joking, but one started to write. Hoshin dictated:
“I came from brilliancy / and return to brilliancy. / What is this?”
The poem was one line short of the customary four, so the disciple said,
“Master, we are short by one line.” Hoshin, with the roar of a conquering lion, shouted “Kaa!” and was gone.
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