Wednesday, January 3, 2024
Home alone, listening to and reading the poems of Han-Shan, Cold Mountain. Thank you Gary Snyder, Red Pine and others.
Men ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain: there’s no through trail.
In summer, ice doesn’t melt
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
How did I make it?
My heart’s not the same as yours.
If your heart was like mine
You’d get it and be right here.