Stone hut by Hanyan (Cold Cliff)

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Divining A Home

Hanshan In a tangle of cliffs I chose a place, Bird-paths, but no trails for men. What's beyond the yard? White clouds clinging to vague rocks. Now I've lived here         how many years... Again and again winter and spring pass. Go tell families with silverware and cars, "What's the use of all that noise and money?"

Wǒ Bǔjū

Hánshān Zhòng yán wǒ bǔjū, Niǎodào jué rén jì. Tíng jì he suǒ yǒu, Báiyún bào yōu shí. Zhū zī fán jǐnián, Lǚ jiàn chūn dōng yì. Jìyǔ zhōng dǐng jiā, Chù míng jiā wǔ yì.

Translator:

Gary Snyder 史耐德

Notes: Gary Snyder, Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems, Shoemaker & Hoard 2004

Related Items:

Hányán, Cold Cliff 寒巖

Tiāntáishān, Heaven Terrace Mountain 天臺山

Zhènjiāng 鎮江