Friday, August 19, 2016

Son Mountain 13: A Cold Mountain Transcreation

I’ve yearned to go to that eastern cliff
for numerous years until just now—
yesterday I climbed by means of vines
but halfway there was checked by mist and wind,
and the path was too narrow wearing clothes,
and the moss was too slick wearing shoes.
I stopped beneath a red perennial cinnamon tree
to sleep with a cloud for a pillow.

(from the translations of RP-9, RH-295, BW-75)

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