Thursday, August 18, 2016

Son Mountain 10: A Cold Mountain Transcreation

Since I disappeared to Cold Mountain
I’ve lived off its fruits and berries—
what worry is there in a life
abiding in the elements of cause,
days and months flowing like a stream,
time sparking off of rocks.
The world can change with heaven and earth
but I’m content to sit within these cliffs.


(from the translations of RP-169, RH-170, GS-17)

Son Mountain 9: A Cold Mountain Transcreation

When someone sees Cold Mountain
all declare he’s wild and crazy—
his face isn’t much to look at,
his body is wrapped in rags and fur,
they don’t understand his words
and he doesn’t speak their words.
His reply to all these passersby:
come and gaze on Cold Mountain.


(from the translations of RP-218, RH-220, GS-24, BW-57)

Son Mountain 8: A Cold Mountain Transcreation

When looking for a place to dwell
Cold Mountain gives enduring shelter—
light winds blow through hidden pines
and closer it sounds better,
beneath them is a silver-haired presence
murmuring immortal words.
It’s been ten years since I’ve returned
forgetting the way I arrived.


(from the translations of RP-4, RH-20, GS-5, BW-50)

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Son Mountain 7: A Cold Mountain Transcreation

People ask the way to Cold Mountain
but Cold Mountain isn’t attainable by road—
in summer the ice never melts,
when the sun’s out, it’s hidden by fog.
How did one like myself get here, you ask?
Maybe my heart and yours aren’t the same.
If your heart were the same as mine
you’d already be here inside.

(from the translations of RP-16, RH-226, BW-82, GS-6)



Son Mountain 6: A Cold Mountain Transcreation

I enjoy this space of natural awareness
amid the mist and vines and dark caves—
its wilderness is limitless
with clouds as easy friends
and roads that never reach the world
in mindlessness no one may reason away.
At night I sit alone on bedrock
until the moon ascends Cold Mountain.

(from the translations of RP-224, RH-226, BW-49, AT-27)

Son Mountain 5: A Cold Mountain Transcreation

Fantastic, this passage to Cold Mountain
with not a sign of horse or cart—
one stream after another who can remember,
peak upon peak going who knows how high,
a thousand seedlings bent with dew,
tall pines sighing in the same wind.
Now that I’ve gone off trail,
form is asking shadow for the way.

(from the translations of RP-3, RH-3, GS1, BW-48)

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Son Mountain 4 [a Cold Mountain Transcreation]

Cold Mountain holds so many wonders
climbers find themselves terrified—
when the moon is shining, the water is brilliant,
when the wind is blowing, grasses stir and sigh,
bare plum trees bloom with snow,
dead trees leaf with clouds.
A little rain transforms everything
but unless all is clear, you’ll never get through.

(from the translations of RP-157, RH-154, GS14, BW-45)



RP-157

Cold Mountain has so many wonders
climbers all get scared
water shimmers in the moonlight
plants rustle in the wind
withered plum trees bloom with snow
snags grow leaves of clouds
touched by rain they all revive
unless it's clear you can't get through


RH-154

Han-shan has many hidden wonders;
Climbers are always struck with awe.

When the moon shines, the waters are clear and bright;
When the wind blows, grasses rustle and sigh.

Withered plums, the snow becomes their blossoms;
Branchless trees have clouds filling in for their leaves.

Touched by rain, it's transformed—all fresh and alive;
If it's not a clear day, you cannot ascend.


BW-45

Cold Mountain is full of weird sights;
People who try to climb it always get scared.
When the moon shines, the water glints and
sparkles;
When the wind blows, the grasses rustle and sigh.
Snowflakes make blossoms for the bare plum,
Clouds in place of leaves for the naked trees.
At a touch of rain, the whole mountain shimmers
But only in good weather can you make the climb.


GS-14

Cold Mountain has many hidden wonders,
People who climb here are always getting scared.
When the moon shines, water sparkles clear
When the wind blows, grass swishes and rattles.
On the bare plum, flowers of snow
On the dead stump, leaves of mist.
At the touch of rain it all turns fresh and live
At the wrong season you can't ford the creeks.