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Han Shan

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

~ Han Shan, trans. Red Pine

 

 

 

 

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.

~ Han Shan, trans. Gary Snyder

 

I spur my horse past the ruined city; the ruined city, that wakes the

traveler's thoughts: ancient battlements, high and low; old grave

mounds, great and small.

Where the shadow of a single tumbleweed trembles and the voice of the

great trees clings forever, I sigh over all these common bones — No

roll of the immortals bears their names.

~Han Shan tr. by Burton Watson

If I try to say anything about this,

consider that it is everything

simultaneously speaking to

everything.

 

Just so, how can

anything be said, except

in the saying of it

something new

emerges.

 

The earth speaks in

new grass, snow,

chrysanthemums.

 

The mountain speaks in

rock, pine,

riffling stream.

 

The sky speaks in

stars, moons,

clouds.

 

Han Shan

hears, weeps,

laughs, pines --

 

Ah, what open secrets within

your own bright

true mind

shine!

~ Mazie & b, "The Missing 300 Poems of Han Shan

 

LoveAlways,

Mazie

 

 

Let the new MSN Premium Internet Software make the most of your high-speed experience.

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, "Mazie Lane" <sraddha54@h...>

wrote:

>

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

 

~ Han Shan, trans. Red Pine

 

no, no, i will refuse to see the cold mountain,

and deny the refreshment of the cool stream,

i cannot accept the chatter of birds

and the comming and going of crowds,

my eyes won't see and my senses will shut up

to the marvels of this world,...

unless you, dear, with your pure hands,

bring me the world in the nicest fashion,

drop by drop and each like a present,...

unless your voice tells me the how and the what

sense by sense

grain of consciousness by grain of consciousness

eric

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, "eric paroissien"

<brahmanshines@a...> wrote:

> , "Mazie Lane"

<sraddha54@h...>

> wrote:

> >

> 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

>

> ~ Han Shan, trans. Red Pine

>

> no, no, i will refuse to see the cold mountain,

> and deny the refreshment of the cool stream,

> i cannot accept the chatter of birds

> and the comming and going of crowds,

> my eyes won't see and my senses will shut up

> to the marvels of this world,...

> unless you, dear, with your pure hands,

> bring me the world in the nicest fashion,

> drop by drop and each like a present,...

> unless your voice tells me the how and the what

> sense by sense

> grain of consciousness by grain of consciousness

> eric

(i will hear the world only from the mouth of a poet)

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