Three Gems from Han Shan

Every so often I return to read and translate a few poems by Han Shan - the recluse of Cold Mountain.  Frankly this serves as a bit of a shortcut for me; it provides a vicarious way for me to partake of the fruits of meditative seclusion without leaving the comforts of home.  Perhaps this is exactly as it should be - Han Shan the poet serves as a stand-in for Han Shan the mountain.  And just as Han Shan the mountain inspired a hermit's original poetry, so the poetry of the hermit can still inspire us today.

Here are translations of three Songs from Cold Mountain.

It’s funny how

Cold Mountain path

Proceeds along

Without a trace of

Horses and carts

As the streams

Run together

It’s hard to remember

Each twist and turn

That brought you here

And the layers of peaks

That loom in the distance

Unknowable

The dew weeps

Upon a thousand

Blades of grass

And the wind moans

With the pines as one

 At the moment when 

The path seems to disappear

Shape turns to ask shadow

From whence it has come  

 可笑寒山道

而无车马踪

联谿难记曲

叠嶂不知重

泣露千般草

吟风一样松

此时迷径处

形问影何从

* * * * *

The sages ignore me

I ignore fools as well

Being neither foolish nor wise

But refraining from all

Such mutual name-calling

I sing to the bright moon at nightfall

And dance with the white clouds at daybreak

I strive to hold my hands in an open mudra

Sitting upright with all the uncountable

Hairs on my head

智者君抛我

愚者我抛君

非愚亦非智

从此断相闻

入夜歌明月

 侵晨舞白云

 焉能拱口手

 端坐鬓纷纷

*  *  *  *  *

My heart shines

Like the harvest moon

A deep pool of clear light

Nothing else has such clarity

For teaching me what to say

吾心似秋月

碧潭清皎洁

无物堪比伦
教我如何说

Photo by Lawrence Hudetz

Apologies to those of you who are purists when it comes to mixing east and west but the beautiful photo above is not of Cold Mountain in China but of a very chilly looking Mt. Hood in Oregon.  However, it is the same moon that shined down on Han Shan, at least as far as I'm aware.