(After Han Shan)

1
When I came to Cold Mountain
I made my home among pines
at the foot of a green cliff.
Yet who is here? Cold Mountain:
a vacant house. Jagged peaks,
white clouds and crying monkeys.

2
After a shower rocks gleam
and Cold Mountain from high peak
down to green border shimmers.
I wander by a clear stream,
watch pebbles in the water,
slip about on the wet moss.

3
In a valley where mist hangs
I sit by a rock, stay clear,
and see no inside or out.
At sunset, arriving home,
I stretch and take off my cap,
find it beaded with moisture.

4
I fetch water from the pool
where the herons fish; I share
the mountain fruit with monkeys.
At the centre I have found
a jewel and gained nothing.
The wind hums in the pine trees.