New Cold Mountain Transcreation 22

In this seam of cliffs 

there’s enough of a crystalline breeze.

No fan needs rousing.

Cool air arises on its own.

A bright moon is shining.

White clouds are encircling.

He is sitting alone—

one ancient man.

304-red pine; 308-henricks; 145-tanahashi

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 21

I abide beneath Cold Cliff 

marveling at its manifest shelter. 

I carry a basket and gather greens and roots

using it to pluck some fruit as well.

Returning, I spread out a simple mat and eat

while chewing on some purple immortals.

I rinse my bowl in a clear pool.

I boil what’s remaining into a soup.

Sitting in sunshine, wrapped in a cloak,

I scan unhurriedly poems of the ancients.

290-red pine; 293-henricks; 255-tanahashi; 295-rouzer

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 20

Nowadays people search in the clouds for a path—

but the way of clouds is obscure and lacks a sign.

The mountains are high and the passes steep.

The streams are wide with little daylight.

Green mountains rise before and after.

White clouds stretch west and east.

But if one is truly looking for the way of clouds,

it’s here in the space of open sky.

255-red pine; 256-henricks; 69-watson; 244-tanahashi

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 19

A thousand clouds and ten thousand streams—

among them is one individual at ease.

In the light of day, he wanders in green mountains.

At night, he circles back to sleep beneath a cliff.

The springs and autumns quickly pass.

Untroubled, he is free of worldly entanglements.

Light-hearted, he depends on nothing.

Becalmed, he is as placid as the waters in an autumn river.

279-red pine; 282-henricks; 61-watson; 241-tanahashi

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 18

Since I’ve been dwelling on Cold Mountain 

how many ten-thousand years have come and gone?

Following my fate, I came to a place of woods and water

and here I stop and stay, observing being as it is.

No one troubles this cold cliff—

impenetrable white clouds obscure.

Meager grass makes my mattress.

Expansive blue sky is my quilt.

Satisfied, I rest my head on a pillow of stone

letting heaven and earth attend to transformation.

26-red pine; 163-henricks; 241-tanahashi; 7-snyder

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 17

I experience the peak of the Platform of the Sky, 

most eminent among that mass of mountains.

Pine and bamboo murmur in the swaying of the wind

like the ocean tide seesawing beneath the moonlight.

Contemplating green slopes below,

I consider the dark principle with white clouds.

My wild delight concurs with these mountains and rivers.

My prime intent is being with such companions of the Way.

  

226-red pine; 228-henricks; 60-watson; 231-tanahashi

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 16

I sit on a large slab of rock.

The valley stream is icy, cold.

Quietly, joyfully, I take in the enchantment

enveloped in the mists that cling to empty cliffs.

This is such a still restful place.

The sun is slant and shadows of trees grow enhanced.

I can see the bottom ground of mind—

a lotus is emerging from the sediment.

264-red pine; 266-henricks; 219-tanahashi; 267-rouzer

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 15

Cold Mountain is an undisturbed place

isolated from the worldly passersby.

Often I come across birds in the forest

and together sing our mountain songs.

Sacred plants flow along streams into valleys.

Venerable pines climb the difficult peaks.

Here you see an easygoing solitary

pausing by a precipice.

256-red pine; 257-henricks; 217-tanahashi; 258-rouzer

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 14

Cloud-blossoming mountains growing toward a heavenly blue sky. 

The road is out-of-the-way and the forest is profound—there are no wayfarers here.

Far-off I see the desolate immortal toad moon shining brightly.

Nearby I hear a flock of birds and their familiar chirping.

An old man is sitting alone on a dark green cliff.

Retiring to this abode, he lets his hair grow gray.

He sighs the past is like the present day—

unpremeditated, like all those rivers flowing east.

122-red pine; 123-henricks; 178-tanahashi; 123-rouzer

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 13

Your brushstrokes may be uninhibited

and physique be quite substantial

but alive, there is your limit.

And dead, one is a nameless ghost.

It’s been like this since ancient days.

To struggle now is simply pointless.

So join me here inside white clouds—

I’ll teach you timeless mushroom songs.

25-red pine; 19-henricks; 142-tanahashi; 19-rouzer

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 12

On Cold Mountain, there’s just white clouds,

noiseless, still, detached from dust.

My mountain retreat is a seat of grass.

The arc of the moon is my only lamp.

My stone bed overlooks a jade pond.

Tigers and deer make my only neighbors.

I prefer the joys of this hidden home

where living is always outside of form.

287-red pine; 290-henricks; 141-tanahashi; rouzer-292

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 11

I live alone beneath steep fluted cliffs

where the swirling mists amass all day.

In my shelter, dim and unilluminated,

my mind is protected from noise and discord.

In a dream, I pass through immortal gates,

my spirit returning across that slight stone bridge.

I leave behind my heavy quarrels—

clang and clash goes the storied cup abandoned on a tree.

48-red pine; 44-henricks; 42-watson; 138-tanahashi

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 10

Cold Mountain cold

freezing even rock—

obscuring mountain green,

revealing whitest snow.

The sun ascends to glow

and soon it all is melting—

presently its warmth

providing for this old visitant.

301-red pine; 305-henricks; 36-tanahashi

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 9

The sun is setting behind the western hills.

Grasses and trees reflect its glowing light—

but there are places dark and primitive

where pines and creeping vines entwine.

And there the tigers huddle and wait!

As I’m determined, they bristle and rise.

I’ve not the slightest sharp edge in my hand.

Of course I feel a reflexive fright.

278-red pine; watson-98;// 134-tanahashi; 144-henricks

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 8

Today I sit before a cliff 

and sit some time until the mist is clearing—

a single stream of crystal clarity;

high ridgeline of emerald summits;

shadows of the morning clouds so still;

pale moon rising toward its brightness.

This frame is free from dust and stain.

What darkness could ever dim the heart?

278-red pine; 92-watson; 128-tanahashi; 281-henricks

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 7

Fly in your three-winged boat

or hurtle on your long-distance horse,

you will never make my home.

I dwell in the deepest wilderness

in a cave on a cliff amidst the highest peaks—

clouds and thunder cascading every day.

There’s not an orator like Lord Confucius

but there’s no one here to save.

29-red pine; rouzer-24; 123-tanahashi; 24-henricks

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 6

There’s a man inhaling dawn-colored clouds

whose home eludes the ordinary.

His every season is refreshingly austere,

summer and fall being all the same.

A secret stream is always stirring.

Tall pines are whispering in the wind.

If one remains here for half a day,

a lifetime of disquiet is erased.

translations: 27-red pine;117-tanahashi; 22-henricks

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 5

I’ve lived for untold autumns here on Cold Mountain

alone and carefree, uttering songs to myself.

My makeshift door doesn’t shut yet there’s calm and quiet.

A spring is murmuring fresh ambrosia in its natural flow.

Within my chamber of rock, an earthen cauldron boils

pine pollen potions, cypress elixirs, and aromatic herbal brews.

When I’m feeling hungry, I merely snack on perennial weeds.

My point of view is so agreeable, I rest on precarious stone.

105-tanahashi; 193-red pine; 194-rouzer; 193-henricks; 21-snyder

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 4

Supremely independent in the clouds,

this mountain needs no landowner.

In descending to the pass, I use a walking stick.

Ascending to the peak, I climb the vines.

In the valley, the trees are evergreen.

In the gorge, the rocks are variously colored.

Although I’m cut off from companions,

when spring arrives, the birds sing dawn dawn.

219-red pine; 105-tanahashi; 64-henricks

New Cold Mountain Transcreation 3

Breathtaking and mind-boggling, the waters of the Yellow River,

on and on without end, its way is coursing eastward—

drifting drifting slowly, obscure and never clearing,

slipping by body after body, whose lives appear to pass instead.

But if you wish to ride majestic white clouds,

how can one develop wings?

While your hair is still jet-black, begin—

active or at rest, drop away completely.

from translations: 67-red pine; 100-tanahashi; 64-henricks