In Meditation Withering (Han Shan De Ching)

Deep into night sitting alone

In meditation withering

Poking at lifeless ashes

But what of the flame

Suddenly the clock’s chime

Calls from on high

A beautiful clear voice

That fills the frozen skies

枯禪

憨山德清

夜深獨坐事枯禪

撥盡寒灰火不然

忽聽樓頭鐘聲發

一聲清韻滿霜天

*  *  *  *  *

Deadwood Zen.  That's the title of this poem as translated by Bill Porter (my favorite translator of Chinese poetry).  Very evocative but not quite accurate.  The character 枯 (ku) refers to the withering or drying up of plants.  But what better case can be made for translation that's none too literal?  In the deadest of deadwood zen, as the poet tells us, there may come a spark of illumination.