Son Mountain 1 (transcreation of a Cold Mountain poem)

(from trans. RP-131, RH-300, GS12, BW-38)
For thirty years I lived in the world

wandering more than ten thousand miles,

walking by rivers with lush green grass

passing the border where the red dust burns,

mixing up potions in search of immortality,

reading the classics and writing my verse,

and now I’ve returned home to Cold Mountain

to rest in the stream and wash out my ears.

RP-131

Born thirty years ago

I've traveled countless miles

along rivers where the green rushes swayed

to the frontier where the red dust swirled

I've made elixirs and tried to become immortal

I've read the classics and written odes

and now I've retired to Cold Mountain

to lie in a stream and wash out my ears

RH-300

Born thirty years ago;

I've been constantly roaming about—one thousand, ten thousand li.

I've walked by rivers where the green grasses merged,

Entered the borders where red dust kicked up.

Refining drugs, in vain I sought to become an immortal;

I read books and wrote poems on historical themes.

But today I've come home to Han-shan1.

To pillow my head on the stream and wash out my ears.

GS-12

In my first thirty years of life

I roamed hundreds and thousands of miles.

Walked by rivers through deep green grass

Entered cities of boiling red dust.

Tried drugs, but couldn't make Immortal;

Read books and wrote poems on history.

Today I'm back at Cold Mountain:

I'll sleep by the creek and purify my ears.

BW-38

Thirty years ago I was born into the world.

A thousand, ten thousand miles I've roamed,

By rivers where the green grass lies 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.