{"id":12118,"date":"2014-10-16T12:29:05","date_gmt":"2014-10-16T16:29:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/?p=12118"},"modified":"2017-11-11T07:51:48","modified_gmt":"2017-11-11T12:51:48","slug":"cold-mountain-poems","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/cold-mountain-poems\/","title":{"rendered":"Cold Mountain Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"pvc_clear\"><\/div>\n<p id=\"pvc_stats_12118\" class=\"pvc_stats all  \" data-element-id=\"12118\" style=\"\"><i class=\"pvc-stats-icon medium\" aria-hidden=\"true\"><svg xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" version=\"1.0\" viewBox=\"0 0 502 315\" preserveAspectRatio=\"xMidYMid meet\"><g transform=\"translate(0,332) scale(0.1,-0.1)\" fill=\"\" stroke=\"none\"><path d=\"M2394 3279 l-29 -30 -3 -207 c-2 -182 0 -211 15 -242 39 -76 157 -76 196 0 15 31 17 60 15 243 l-3 209 -33 29 c-26 23 -41 29 -80 29 -41 0 -53 -5 -78 -31z\"\/><path d=\"M3085 3251 c-45 -19 -58 -50 -96 -229 -47 -217 -49 -260 -13 -295 52 -53 146 -42 177 20 16 31 87 366 87 410 0 70 -86 122 -155 94z\"\/><path d=\"M1751 3234 c-13 -9 -29 -31 -37 -50 -12 -29 -10 -49 21 -204 19 -94 39 -189 45 -210 14 -50 54 -80 110 -80 34 0 48 6 76 34 21 21 34 44 34 59 0 14 -18 113 -40 219 -37 178 -43 195 -70 221 -36 32 -101 37 -139 11z\"\/><path d=\"M1163 3073 c-36 -7 -73 -59 -73 -102 0 -56 133 -378 171 -413 34 -32 83 -37 129 -13 70 36 67 87 -16 290 -86 209 -89 214 -129 231 -35 14 -42 15 -82 7z\"\/><path d=\"M3689 3066 c-15 -9 -33 -30 -42 -48 -48 -103 -147 -355 -147 -375 0 -98 131 -148 192 -74 13 15 57 108 97 206 80 196 84 226 37 273 -30 30 -99 39 -137 18z\"\/><path d=\"M583 2784 c-38 -19 -67 -74 -58 -113 9 -42 211 -354 242 -373 16 -10 45 -18 66 -18 51 0 107 52 107 100 0 39 -1 41 -124 234 -80 126 -108 162 -133 173 -41 17 -61 16 -100 -3z\"\/><path d=\"M4250 2784 c-14 -9 -74 -91 -133 -183 -95 -150 -107 -173 -107 -213 0 -55 33 -94 87 -104 67 -13 90 8 211 198 130 202 137 225 78 284 -27 27 -42 34 -72 34 -22 0 -50 -8 -64 -16z\"\/><path d=\"M2275 2693 c-553 -48 -1095 -270 -1585 -649 -135 -104 -459 -423 -483 -476 -23 -49 -22 -139 2 -186 73 -142 361 -457 571 -626 285 -228 642 -407 990 -497 242 -63 336 -73 660 -74 310 0 370 5 595 52 535 111 1045 392 1455 803 122 121 250 273 275 326 19 41 19 137 0 174 -41 79 -309 363 -465 492 -447 370 -946 591 -1479 653 -113 14 -422 18 -536 8z m395 -428 c171 -34 330 -124 456 -258 112 -119 167 -219 211 -378 27 -96 24 -300 -5 -401 -72 -255 -236 -447 -474 -557 -132 -62 -201 -76 -368 -76 -167 0 -236 14 -368 76 -213 98 -373 271 -451 485 -162 444 86 934 547 1084 153 49 292 57 452 25z m909 -232 c222 -123 408 -262 593 -441 76 -74 138 -139 138 -144 0 -16 -233 -242 -330 -319 -155 -123 -309 -223 -461 -299 l-81 -41 32 46 c18 26 49 83 70 128 143 306 141 649 -6 957 -25 52 -61 116 -79 142 l-34 47 45 -20 c26 -10 76 -36 113 -56z m-2057 25 c-40 -58 -105 -190 -130 -263 -110 -324 -59 -707 132 -981 25 -35 42 -64 37 -64 -19 0 -241 119 -326 174 -188 122 -406 314 -532 468 l-58 71 108 103 c185 178 428 349 672 473 66 33 121 60 123 61 2 0 -10 -19 -26 -42z\"\/><path d=\"M2375 1950 c-198 -44 -350 -190 -395 -379 -18 -76 -8 -221 19 -290 114 -284 457 -406 731 -260 98 52 188 154 231 260 27 69 37 214 19 290 -38 163 -166 304 -326 360 -67 23 -215 33 -279 19z\"\/><\/g><\/svg><\/i> <img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"16\" height=\"16\" alt=\"Loading\" src=\"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-content\/plugins\/page-views-count\/ajax-loader-2x.gif\" border=0 \/><\/p>\n<div class=\"pvc_clear\"><\/div>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Cold Mountain Part 1\" width=\"805\" height=\"604\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/lbknqub2S0o?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p><a title=\"Han Shan poems\" href=\"http:\/\/rickpdx.wordpress.com\/2009\/01\/11\/part-3-poems-of-the-tang-dynasty-han-shan\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright\" src=\"http:\/\/rickpdx.files.wordpress.com\/2009\/01\/han-shan.jpg\" alt=\"Han Shan and Shih Te\" width=\"200\"><\/a><strong>I first became aware of the Tang dynasty poet, Han Shan, in the late 1960s<\/strong>, when I was engrossed in reading the poets of the earlier Beat generation. It was at that time that, through them, I started to discover and explore Western Buddhism &#8211; as it was adapted and represented through their experiences and words. I eagerly read everything by Alan Watts and Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsburg and others from the era.<\/p>\n<p>Sometime around then, I discovered a few of Han Shan&#8217;s poems. Beat poet Gary Snyder had translated <a title=\"24 Han Shan poems\" href=\"http:\/\/www.hermetica.info\/hanshan.htm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">24 poems<\/a> for the Evergreen Review in 1958, and later included them with a collection of his own poems in his 1959 book, <em>Rip Rap and Cold Mountain Poems<\/em>. My copy of that book, in its 1966 reprint, has long since vanished from my shelves. But I remember the effect they had on me: their austere simplicity, their sincerity, their unfeigned naturalness.<\/p>\n<p>I found Snyder through Kerouac&#8217;s portrayal of him in his novel, <em>The Dharma Bums (<\/em>which I also still have on my shelves). Around the same time I discovered haiku, Kenneth Rexroth&#8217;s translations,&nbsp;and translations of other T&#8217;ang poets: Li Po, Wang Wei and Tu Fu in particular&#8230; books which I still have. <a title=\"hermetica\" href=\"http:\/\/www.hermetica.info\/hanshan.htm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Snyder&#8217;s translations<\/a> were crisp, clear and poignant.<\/p>\n<p><a title=\"Wikipedia\" href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Hanshan_(poet)\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Han Shan<\/a> means &#8220;Cold Mountain&#8221; in Chinese. It&#8217;s not simply a place: in the poetry it&#8217;s a metaphor for both a state of being and a spiritual destination. The reader is not simply looking at a person: he or she is looking at a mirror: Han Shan is telling us to look within. The&nbsp;poems are important in the literature of Ch&#8217;an Buddhism, which later migrated to become Zen in Japan.<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,<br \/>\nThe Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:<br \/>\nThe long gorge choked with scree and boulders,<br \/>\nThe wide creek, the mist-blurred grass.<br \/>\nThe moss is slippery, though there&#8217;s been no rain<br \/>\nThe pine sings, but there&#8217;s no wind.<br \/>\nWho can leap the world&#8217;s ties<br \/>\nAnd sit with me among the white clouds?<br \/>\n<strong>translated by Gary Snyder.<span style=\"color: #ff0000;\">*<\/span><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>His original name has been lost in the ages between us. He has been dated to a wide range of years in the T&#8217;ang dynasty, between about 577 and 901 CE. He has also been identified as different individuals during that period, as well as a collective of poets. He travelled and wrote with a companion, Shih-te, although some authorities suggest they were the same person. No one knows for sure. All we know is that he wrote his poems on rocks (and maybe on bamboo and the wood or the walls of houses).<\/p>\n<p>His only contemporary biographer, <a title=\"hermetica\" href=\"http:\/\/www.hermetica.info\/hanshan.htm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Lu Ch&#8217;iu-yin, Governor of T&#8217;ai Prefecture<\/a>, wrote this of Han Shan:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>He looked like a tramp. His body and face were old and beat. Yet in every word he breathed was a meaning in line with the subtle principles of things, if only you thought of it deeply. Everything he said had a feeling of Tao in it, profound and arcane secrets. His hat was made of birch bark, his clothes were ragged and worn out, and his shoes were wood. Thus men who have made it hide their tracks: unifying categories and interpenetrating things. On that long veranda calling and singing, in his words of reply Ha Ha! &#8211; the three worlds revolve. Sometimes at the villages and farms he laughed and sang with cowherds. Sometimes intractable, sometimes agreeable, his nature was happy of itself. But how could a person without wisdom recognize him?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>You can read other biographical accounts online, including <a title=\"Hermitary\" href=\"http:\/\/www.hermitary.com\/articles\/han-shan.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">this one at Hermitary<\/a>.<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><br \/>\nGary Snyder himself wrote, in 2000, <a title=\"Project Muse\" href=\"https:\/\/muse.jhu.edu\/login?auth=0&amp;type=summary&amp;url=\/journals\/manoa\/v012\/12.1snyder.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">on Project Muse<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>As the poem here makes adequately clear, though, Han-shan was not exactly a &#8220;nature poet.&#8221; He was a person who left his old self behind to walk in the world of jijimuge (&#8220;fact-fact-no-obstruction&#8221;), which is, in the philosophy of Avatamsaka (Hua-yen) and in the practice of Zen, just this very world. The recurrent image of Cold Mountain and its roughness is the narrow gate through which Han-shan tried to force his perception of a whole world, and this helps to explain his poetry&#8217;s calm intensity.<\/p>\n<p>In some ways, our contemporary idea of Han-shan is the creation of the Zen tradition and the Chinese delight in eccentrics. His poems are much loved in Japan, and formal Zen lectures are given on his work. The mountains and caves that are associated with him are still there: people visit them regularly. According to traditional scholarship, Han-shan lived from a.d. 627 to 650. The scholar Hu Shih places him circa A.D. 700 to 750.<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>In a tangle of cliffs I chose a place&#8211;<br \/>\nBird-paths, but no trails for men.<br \/>\nWhat&#8217;s beyond the yard?<br \/>\nWhite clouds clinging to vague rocks.<br \/>\nNow I&#8217;ve lived here &#8212; how many years&#8211;<br \/>\nAgain and again, spring and winter pass.<br \/>\nGo tell families with silverware and cars<br \/>\n&#8220;What&#8217;s the use of all that noise and money?&#8221;<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>More than 300 of his poems survive. However until recently, only a portion of them were available in English translations. The full canon has only be made available in English in the last two decades.<\/p>\n<p><a title=\"Arthur Waley\" href=\"http:\/\/www.unz.org\/Pub\/Encounter-1954sep-00003\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Arthur Waley<\/a> had translated 27 Han Shan poems back in 1954, but I didn&#8217;t find his versions until much later, after I had read Snyder&#8217;s. However I did discover his <a title=\"Gutenberg.org\" href=\"http:\/\/www.gutenberg.org\/files\/42290\/42290-h\/42290-h.htm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">anthology of Chinese poetry<\/a> (which I still have, although it has no Han Shan in it).<\/p>\n<p>In 1970, Columbia University Press re-released Burton Watson&#8217;s<em> Cold Mountain: 100 Poems by the T&#8217;ang Poet Han-shan<\/em>. I still have my original copy of this, as well. And I opened it for perhaps the first time in a decade or more, last week, to remember. Like the scent of wet leaves in autumn, or the smell of newly-cut grass in summer, it brought back a flood of memories. It rekindled my interest in reading old Han Shan, to sit with him on Cold Mountain.<\/p>\n<p>This week, I received J. P Seaton&#8217;s translations in his collection, <em>Cold Mountain Poems: Zen Poems of Han Shan, Shih Te and Wang Fan-chih<\/em> (Shambala Publications, Boston, 2009). His anthology has 95 of Han Shan&#8217;s poems, not all the same as those chosen by Waley.<\/p>\n<p>I am waiting for&nbsp;a copy of the 1990 Hendricks&#8217; translation with the full canon of his poems, as well as the 2000 collection by Red Pine (aka Bill Porter). Both have been well-reviewed and analysed online. In fact it is thanks to the internet that interest in Han Shan&#8217;s&nbsp;poems has revived and a new audience has developed.<\/p>\n<p>Translating poetry to another language is always rife with complexity. Translating terse <a title=\"Translating Chinese poetry\" href=\"http:\/\/bic.cass.cn\/English\/InfoShow\/Arcitle_Show_Forum2_Show.asp?ID=324&amp;Title=The%20Humanities%20Study&amp;strNavigation=Home-%3EForum&amp;BigClassID=4&amp;SmallClassID=8\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">ancient Chinese Ch&#8217;an poetry<\/a> triply so. Each version is coloured by the nuances of the translator&#8217;s own beliefs, education and experiences. Each may see in the words different meaning, different patterns and different word order. Like with many of my translations, I have several versions so I can compare them and try to get a fuller sense of the author&#8217;s intent.<\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s a little difficult to match poems for comparison because not all translators chose the same poems, and in some cases they have been numbered differently. However, I have a few to examine. Here, for example, is one of the poems as translated by Hendricks:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Father and mother left me plenty of books,<br \/>\nFields and gardens &#8211; I long for nothing more.<\/p>\n<p>My wife works the shuttle &#8211; her loom goes creak!<br \/>\nOur son is at play &#8211; his mouth babbles wa! wa!<\/p>\n<p>Clapping my hands, I urge the flowers to dance;<br \/>\nPropping my chin, I listen to the birds sing.<\/p>\n<p>Who can come and admire (this scene)?<br \/>\nThe woodcutters always pass by.<\/p>\n<p><strong>The Poetry of Han-shan: A Complete, Annotated Translation of Cold Mountain, ed. by Robert G. Hendricks, 1990, State University of New York Press, Albany<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Here is Arthur Waley&#8217;s 1954 translation (found at several sites online):<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>From my father and mother I inherited land enough<br \/>\nAnd need not envy others&#8217; orchards and fields.<br \/>\nCreak, creak goes the sound of my wife&#8217;s loom;<br \/>\nBack and forth my children prattle at their play.<br \/>\nThey clap their hands to make the flowers dance ;<br \/>\nThen chin on palm listen to the birds&#8217; song.<br \/>\nDoes anyone ever come to pay his respects?<br \/>\nYes, there is a woodcutter who often comes this way.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>And this somewhat later one by Blyth:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>My mother and father left me enough to live on,<br \/>\nI have no need to grudge others their lands and fields.<br \/>\nMy wife works at the loom; creak! creak! it goes.<br \/>\nMy children prattle and play;<br \/>\nClapping their hands, they dance with the flowers,<br \/>\nRhey listen to the song of the birds, chin on hand.<br \/>\nWho comes to pay his respects?<br \/>\nA woodcutter, occasionally.<br \/>\n<strong>R. H. Blyth, Zen and Zen Classics , Volume 2: History of Zen. The Hokuseido Press, 1964.<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><a title=\"Georgcello\" href=\"http:\/\/www.georgcello.com\/HanShan.htm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">George Mertens<\/a> translated that verse from the German into English:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Father and mother left a good heritage<br \/>\nhere in the country they don&#8217;t know envy<br \/>\nmy wife is working; the weaving loom click clack<br \/>\nthe children playing, the mouths chatter and chatter<br \/>\nA clap in the hands starts the flower dance<br \/>\nresting on my chin I listen to the bird songs<br \/>\nWho comes to give me the honour?<br \/>\nThe woodcutter calls sometimes past<br \/>\n<strong>translated from German with added notes by Georg Mertens 1998 (revised 2002)<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Seaton&#8217;s recent translation:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>My father and mother were frugal, hard workers.<br \/>\nThe grain fields, the vegetable plots<br \/>\nthey left me are as good as any man&#8217;s.<br \/>\nMy wife keeps the loom click-clacking,<br \/>\nand my boy can goo-goo with the best.<br \/>\nI just clap time for the flowers as they dance,<br \/>\nor sit chin in hand and listen to the birds sing.<br \/>\nAnd who should come by from time to time<br \/>\nto sigh their admiration? The woodcutters<br \/>\nquite often do!<br \/>\n<strong>Cold Mountain Poems: Zen Poems of Han Shan, Shih Te and Wang Fan-chih, Shambala Publications, Boston, 2009<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>It&#8217;s interesting that only Hendricks mentions books. And then there&#8217;s the difference between admiration, honour and respect in the second last line. What&#8217;s also interesting is that the romantic poet, <a title=\"John Keats\" href=\"http:\/\/ota.ahds.ac.uk\/text\/3259.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">John Keats<\/a>, wrote similarly in his poem&nbsp;<em>Endymion: A Poetic Romance<\/em>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Counting his woe-worn minutes, by the strokes<br \/>\nOf the lone woodcutter; and listening still,<br \/>\nHour after hour, to each lush-leav&#8217;d rill.<br \/>\nNow he is sitting by a shady spring,<br \/>\nAnd elbow-deep with feverous fingering<br \/>\nStems the upbursting cold a wild rose tree<br \/>\nPavilions him in bloom, and he doth see<br \/>\nA bud which snares his fancy lo! but now<br \/>\nHe plucks it, dips its stalk in the water how!<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Here&#8217;s another example of Han Shan&#8217;s work, some from the same sources listed above. First Blyth&#8217;s version:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Beams with a thatch over them, &#8211; a wild man&#8217;s dwelling!<br \/>\nBefore my gate pass horses and carts seldom enough;<br \/>\nThe lonely woods gather birds;<br \/>\nThe broad valley stream harbours fish;<br \/>\nWith my children I pluck the wild fruits of the trees;<br \/>\nMy wife and I hoe the rice field;<br \/>\nWhat is there in my house?<br \/>\nA single case of books.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Then Red Pine&#8217;s:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>A mountain man lives under thatch<br \/>\nbefore his gate carts and horses are rare<br \/>\nthe forest is quiet but partial to birds<br \/>\nthe streams are wide and home to fish<br \/>\nwith his son he picks wild fruit<br \/>\nwith his wife he hoes between rocks<br \/>\nwhat does he have at home<br \/>\na shelf full of nothing but books<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Again some subtleties. in how the translators approached the original A shelf full of &#8220;nothing but books&#8221; versus a &#8220;single case of books.&#8221; The former seems to demean the books (a metaphor for formal education?). The latter suggests it is a treasured&nbsp;asset. Both evocative, but in almost contrasting ways.<\/p>\n<p>Red Pine offers us this translation of another poem:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>is there a self or not<br \/>\nis this me or not<br \/>\nthis is what I ponder<br \/>\nstill seated against the cliff<br \/>\nwhile between my feet green grass grows<br \/>\nand on my head red dust settles<br \/>\nI\u2019ve even seen members of the laity<br \/>\nleave fruit and wine by the bier<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>While Burton Watson gives puts it this way:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Have I a body or have I none?<br \/>\nAm I who I am or am I not?<br \/>\nPondering these questions,<br \/>\nI sit leaning against the cliff while the years go by,<br \/>\ntill the green grass grows between my feet<br \/>\nand the red dust settles on my head,<br \/>\nand the men of the world, thinking me dead,<br \/>\ncome with offerings of wine and fruit to lay by my corpse.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><a title=\"Cipher Journal\" href=\"http:\/\/www.cipherjournal.com\/html\/barnstone_han_shan.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Tony Barnstone<\/a>, another translator, wrote about these versions, and offered <a title=\"Guernica Magazine\" href=\"https:\/\/www.guernicamag.com\/poetry\/seven_poems_by_han_shan\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">his own translation<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>I admire Red Pine\u2019s terseness and occasional attempts to slip in a slant rhyme as a gesture towards traditional Chinese form, and I admire the narrative clarity of Burton Watson\u2019s versions. They represent the extremes of concision and expansion, and at their best they do amazing work&#8230; I chose a slightly different path. Here is the version I did with Chou Ping:<\/p>\n<p>Do I have a body or not?<br \/>\nAm I my body or not?<br \/>\nBrooding on this,<br \/>\nI let things pass, sitting against a cliff<br \/>\ntill green grass spills between my feet,<br \/>\nred dust cakes my head,<br \/>\nand common men, thinking me dead,<br \/>\nleave wine and fruit by my bed.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Body versus self, laity, common men and men of the world: all very different approaches. You can see how the various translators shift the meaning, the rhythm and the sense.<\/p>\n<p>Similarly, here&#8217;s a <a title=\"Delacour.net\" href=\"http:\/\/weblog.delacour.net\/archives\/000381.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">comparison between Watson&#8217;s and Snyder&#8217;s styles<\/a> in this poem:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Thirty years ago I was born into the world.<br \/>\nA thousand, ten thousand miles I\u2019ve roamed,<br \/>\nBy rivers where the green grass lies thick,<br \/>\nBeyond the border where the red sands fly.<br \/>\nI brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,<br \/>\nI read books, I sang songs of history,<br \/>\nAnd today I\u2019ve come home to Cold Mountain<br \/>\nTo pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.<br \/>\n<strong>This translation is by Burton Watson.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>In my first thirty years of life<br \/>\nI roamed hundreds and thousands of miles.<br \/>\nWalked by rivers through deep green grass<br \/>\nEntered cities of boiling red dust.<br \/>\nTried drugs, but couldn\u2019t make Immortal;<br \/>\nRead books and wrote poems on history.<br \/>\nToday I\u2019m back at Cold Mountain:<br \/>\nI\u2019ll sleep by the creek and purify my ears.<br \/>\n<strong>This one by Gary Snyder,<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Here&#8217;s&nbsp;one of Han Shan&#8217;s&nbsp;poems, translated by Watson, that could have resonance in the current municipal election campaign, or perhaps aimed gently at abusive, local bloggers, yet with warm words for their victims:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>When I see a fellow abusing others,<br \/>\nI think of a man with a basketful of water.<br \/>\nAs fast as he can, he runs with it home,<br \/>\nbut when he gets there, what&#8217;s left in the basket?<br \/>\nWhen I see a man being abused by others,<br \/>\nI think of the leek growing in the garden.<br \/>\nDay after day men pull off the leaves,<br \/>\nbut the heart it was born with remains the same.<br \/>\nTran. <a title=\"Han Shan reader\" href=\" http:\/\/terebess.hu\/zen\/chang\/HANSHANREADER.pdf\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Burton Watson<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Various translations of Han Shan&#8217;s poems can be found online, <a title=\"Terebess\" href=\"http:\/\/terebess.hu\/zen\/chang\/hanshan.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">including several here<\/a>.<\/p>\n<p>Cold Mountain appears in the lyrics of <a title=\"Grateful Dead\" href=\"http:\/\/artsites.ucsc.edu\/GDead\/agdl\/moon.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Mountains Of The Moon<\/a>, a Grateful Dead song from their 1969 studio album, <em>Aoxomoxoa<\/em>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Cold Mountain water<br \/>\nthe jade merchant&#8217;s daughter<br \/>\nMountains of the Moon, Bow and bend to me<br \/>\nHi ho the Carrion Crow<br \/>\nFolderolderiddle<br \/>\nHi Ho the Carrion Crow<br \/>\nBow and bend to me<br \/>\n<strong>Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>There is an ancient <a title=\"Wikipedia\" href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Hanshan_Temple\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Buddhist temple and monastery in Suzhou, now named after Han Shan<\/a> who lived nearby. Tang dynasty poet Zhang Ji wrote about it:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>The old moon is going down<br \/>\nAnd the crows make a ruckus<br \/>\nThe world is covered with frost<br \/>\nThere are maples on the riverbank<br \/>\nAnd the lights of fishing boats<br \/>\nDrift with the current<br \/>\nI fall into a sad sleep<br \/>\nfrom the monastery on Cold Mountain<br \/>\nThe sound of the bell<br \/>\nReaches the guest boat at midnight.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>A park in British Columbia has a plan to adorn its trees with poems like Han Shan did. read about it here:<a title=\"McLellan Park\" href=\"http:\/\/mclellanpark.blogspot.ca\/2012\/12\/han-shan-poetry-project.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"> McLellan Park Blog<\/a><\/p>\n<p><strong>~~~~~<\/strong><br \/>\nThe Youtube video at the top is part of<a title=\"Culture Unplugged\" href=\"http:\/\/www.cultureunplugged.com\/play\/2457\/Cold-Mountain\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"> a longer movie about Han Shan<\/a> and Cold Mountain. This earlier Han Shan should not be confused with<a title=\"Garden Digest\" href=\"http:\/\/www.gardendigest.com\/zen\/hsind.htm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"> Han Shan Te-Ching<\/a>, a 16th century Buddhist monk and also a poet.<\/p>\n<p>* <a title=\"Poetry in Translation: Han Shan\" href=\"http:\/\/www.poetryintranslation.com\/PITBR\/Chinese\/HanShan.htm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">A.S. Kline<\/a> has translated this as:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>I\u2019m on the trail to Cold Mountain.<br \/>\nCold Mountain trail never ends.<br \/>\nLong clefts thick with rock and stones,<br \/>\nWide streams buried in dense grass.<br \/>\nSlippery moss, but there\u2019s been no rain,<br \/>\nPine trees sigh, but there\u2019s no wind.<br \/>\nWho can leap the world\u2019s net,<br \/>\nSit here in the white clouds with me?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<div class=\"pvc_clear\"><\/div>\n<p id=\"pvc_stats_12118\" class=\"pvc_stats all  \" data-element-id=\"12118\" style=\"\"><i class=\"pvc-stats-icon medium\" aria-hidden=\"true\"><svg xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" version=\"1.0\" viewBox=\"0 0 502 315\" preserveAspectRatio=\"xMidYMid meet\"><g transform=\"translate(0,332) scale(0.1,-0.1)\" fill=\"\" stroke=\"none\"><path d=\"M2394 3279 l-29 -30 -3 -207 c-2 -182 0 -211 15 -242 39 -76 157 -76 196 0 15 31 17 60 15 243 l-3 209 -33 29 c-26 23 -41 29 -80 29 -41 0 -53 -5 -78 -31z\"\/><path d=\"M3085 3251 c-45 -19 -58 -50 -96 -229 -47 -217 -49 -260 -13 -295 52 -53 146 -42 177 20 16 31 87 366 87 410 0 70 -86 122 -155 94z\"\/><path d=\"M1751 3234 c-13 -9 -29 -31 -37 -50 -12 -29 -10 -49 21 -204 19 -94 39 -189 45 -210 14 -50 54 -80 110 -80 34 0 48 6 76 34 21 21 34 44 34 59 0 14 -18 113 -40 219 -37 178 -43 195 -70 221 -36 32 -101 37 -139 11z\"\/><path d=\"M1163 3073 c-36 -7 -73 -59 -73 -102 0 -56 133 -378 171 -413 34 -32 83 -37 129 -13 70 36 67 87 -16 290 -86 209 -89 214 -129 231 -35 14 -42 15 -82 7z\"\/><path d=\"M3689 3066 c-15 -9 -33 -30 -42 -48 -48 -103 -147 -355 -147 -375 0 -98 131 -148 192 -74 13 15 57 108 97 206 80 196 84 226 37 273 -30 30 -99 39 -137 18z\"\/><path d=\"M583 2784 c-38 -19 -67 -74 -58 -113 9 -42 211 -354 242 -373 16 -10 45 -18 66 -18 51 0 107 52 107 100 0 39 -1 41 -124 234 -80 126 -108 162 -133 173 -41 17 -61 16 -100 -3z\"\/><path d=\"M4250 2784 c-14 -9 -74 -91 -133 -183 -95 -150 -107 -173 -107 -213 0 -55 33 -94 87 -104 67 -13 90 8 211 198 130 202 137 225 78 284 -27 27 -42 34 -72 34 -22 0 -50 -8 -64 -16z\"\/><path d=\"M2275 2693 c-553 -48 -1095 -270 -1585 -649 -135 -104 -459 -423 -483 -476 -23 -49 -22 -139 2 -186 73 -142 361 -457 571 -626 285 -228 642 -407 990 -497 242 -63 336 -73 660 -74 310 0 370 5 595 52 535 111 1045 392 1455 803 122 121 250 273 275 326 19 41 19 137 0 174 -41 79 -309 363 -465 492 -447 370 -946 591 -1479 653 -113 14 -422 18 -536 8z m395 -428 c171 -34 330 -124 456 -258 112 -119 167 -219 211 -378 27 -96 24 -300 -5 -401 -72 -255 -236 -447 -474 -557 -132 -62 -201 -76 -368 -76 -167 0 -236 14 -368 76 -213 98 -373 271 -451 485 -162 444 86 934 547 1084 153 49 292 57 452 25z m909 -232 c222 -123 408 -262 593 -441 76 -74 138 -139 138 -144 0 -16 -233 -242 -330 -319 -155 -123 -309 -223 -461 -299 l-81 -41 32 46 c18 26 49 83 70 128 143 306 141 649 -6 957 -25 52 -61 116 -79 142 l-34 47 45 -20 c26 -10 76 -36 113 -56z m-2057 25 c-40 -58 -105 -190 -130 -263 -110 -324 -59 -707 132 -981 25 -35 42 -64 37 -64 -19 0 -241 119 -326 174 -188 122 -406 314 -532 468 l-58 71 108 103 c185 178 428 349 672 473 66 33 121 60 123 61 2 0 -10 -19 -26 -42z\"\/><path d=\"M2375 1950 c-198 -44 -350 -190 -395 -379 -18 -76 -8 -221 19 -290 114 -284 457 -406 731 -260 98 52 188 154 231 260 27 69 37 214 19 290 -38 163 -166 304 -326 360 -67 23 -215 33 -279 19z\"\/><\/g><\/svg><\/i> <img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"16\" height=\"16\" alt=\"Loading\" src=\"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-content\/plugins\/page-views-count\/ajax-loader-2x.gif\" border=0 \/><\/p>\n<div class=\"pvc_clear\"><\/div>\n<p>I first became aware of the Tang dynasty poet, Han Shan, in the late 1960s, when I was engrossed in reading the poets of the earlier Beat generation. It was at that time that, through them, I started to discover and explore Western Buddhism &#8211; as it was adapted and represented through their experiences and words. I eagerly read everything by Alan Watts and Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsburg and others from the era. Sometime around then, I discovered a few of Han Shan&#8217;s poems. Beat poet Gary Snyder had translated 24 poems for the Evergreen Review in 1958, and later \u2026&#8230;&#8230; click below for more \u2193<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_hide_featured_image":false,"_jetpack_featured_image_duplicate_dismissed":0,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[8,213,9,411],"tags":[406,24,60,76],"class_list":["post-12118","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-culture-and-the-arts","category-personal-reminiscences","category-poetry-lyrics","tag-books-reviews","tag-culture","tag-history-2","tag-poetry"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":14075,"today_views":1},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12118","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12118"}],"version-history":[{"count":25,"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12118\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20061,"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12118\/revisions\/20061"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12118"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12118"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ianchadwick.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12118"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}