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Poetry of  
HanShan



Climbing up the Cold Mountain
    
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,

The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:

The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,

The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass.

The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain

The pine sings, but there's no wind.

Who can leap the world's ties

And sit with me among the white clouds?

tr. Gary Snyder


Chinese text
Born Thirty Years Ago
    
Thirty years ago I was born into the world.

A thousand, ten thousand miles I've roamed.

By rivers where the green grass grows thick,

Beyond the border where the red sands fly.

I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,

I read books, I sang songs of history,

And today I've come home to Cold Mountain

To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.

tr. Gary Synder


Chinese text
My Dwelling at TianTai
    
I divined and chose a distant place to dwell-

T'ien-t'ai: what more is there to say?

Monkeys cry where valley mists are cold;

My grass gate blends with the color of the crags.

I pick leaves to thatch a hut among the pines,

Scoop out a pond and lead a runnel from the spring.

By now I am used to doing without the world.

Picking ferns, I pass the years that are left.

tr. Burton Watson


Chinese text
035      On the HanShan Path
    
The trail to Cold Mountain is faint

the banks of Cold Stream are a jungle

birds constantly chatter away

I hear no sould of people

gusts of wind lash my face

flurries of snow bury my body

day after day no sun

year after year no spring

tr. Red Pine


Chinese text
005      My Heart is Like Autumn Moon
    
The trail to Cold Mountain is faint

the banks of Cold Stream are a jungle

birds constantly chatter away

I hear no sould of people

gusts of wind lash my face

flurries of snow bury my body

day after day no sun

year after year no spring

tr. Red Pine


Chinese text

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