Hanshan

Hanshan (c.730? – c.850?) was a legendary figure associated with a collection of poems from the Chinese Tang Dynasty in the Taoist and Chan tradition. No one knows who he was, or when he lived and died. In the Buddhist tradition, Hanshan and his sidekick Shide are honored as emanations of the bodhisattvas Mañjuśrī and Samantabhadra, respectively. In Japanese and Chinese paintings, Hanshan is often depicted together with Shide or with Fenggan, another monk with legendary attributes.

Quotes
I sat silently, bathed in the full moon's light. I counted there ten thousand shapes, None with substance save the moon's own glow. The pristine mind is empty as the moon, I thought, and like the moon, freely shines. By what I knew of moon I knew the mind, Each mirror to each, profound as stone.
 * Once, my back wedded to the solid cliff,
 * Encounters With Cold Mountain, tr. Peter Stambler (Foreign Languages Press, Beijing, 1996)

They say, "Han-shan is an idiot." "Am I really an idiot:" I reflect. But my reflections fail to solve the question: for I myself do not know who the self is, And how can others know who I am?
 * All the people in the Kuo-ch'ing monastery—
 * Translated by D. T. Suzuki
 * Note: This poem, translated by D. T. Suzuki, is not a complete Han-shan poem. It is lines 3–8 of a 14 line poem, numbered 271 by Red Pine.

Cold Mountain Transcendental Poetry

 * Cold Mountain Transcendental Poetry by the T'ang Zen poet, Han-shan (2005, 2011), tr. Wandering Poet, ISBN 978-0-6151-6006-1 ISBN 0615160069 LOC Number 2007937840

Even the Seven Treasures cannot compare A cold moon rises through the pines Layer upon layer of bright clouds How many towering peaks? How many wandering miles? The valley streams run clear Happiness forever!
 * There is a Precious Mountain

Here lives an idle man In the daytime wandering over green mountains At night coming home to sleep by the cliff Swiftly springs and autumns pass But my mind is at peace, clear and free By now I need nothing to lean on To be still as the waters of the autumn river
 * Among a thousand clouds and ten thousand streams

Cold Mountain says it all Monkeys scream, the valley fog is cold My door blends with the color of the peaks I gather leaves and thatch a hut among the pines Dig a pond and lead a trickle from the brook Long ago I left the world behind Eating ferns I pass the years in peace
 * I dreamed a place where I have come to dwell

It's peaceful to be cut off from the busy world I use dry grass for cushions in my mountain home My only light is the round moon My bed is the rock beside the green pool Tigers and deer are my companions I delight in this happy peaceful life Forever beyond the world of men
 * Cold Mountain is hidden in white clouds

Already it seems like ages Wandering free I roam the woods and streams Lingering to watch things be themselves Men don't come this far into the mountains Where white clouds gather and billow Dry grass makes a comfortable mattress The blue sky is a fine quilt Happy to pillow my head on the rock I leave heaven and earth to endless change
 * I settled at Cold Mountain long ago

Until the mist and rainbows disappeared I followed the emerald stream Explored a thousand tiers of green cliffs In the morning my spirit rests among white clouds At night a bright moon floats in the sky '''I am free of the busy world There is not a doubt in my heart or a worry to disturb my mind'''
 * Today I sat before the cliff

When you live alone you have no worries When you leave the doors open no one bothers you The bubbling stream runs forever In the cave a clay pot boils over a fire on the ground A wandering breeze stirs the fragrant pines When hungry I eat one simple meal And lean against the rock in complete harmony
 * When you live on Cold Mountain long enough the autumns pass quickly

Among the mist and vines and caves The wilderness is boundless My companions are lazy white clouds There are roads but they do not reach the world My mind has come to rest and nothing can stir my thought On a bed of rock I sit alone in the night While a round moon climbs up Cold Mountain
 * I'm happy in the every day Way

Wandering free with no concerns Every day I find food for this old body There's leisure for thinking, nothing to do Often I carry an ancient book Sometimes I climb a rock pavilion To look down a thousand foot precipice Overhead are swirling clouds A cold moon chilly cold My body feels like a flying crane
 * I love the joy of mountains

Blue green vistas locked in white clouds The mist makes my bandana wet Dew coats my grass cape My feet climb in straw sandals My hand holds an old wooden stick When I gaze down again on the dusty world It has become a land of phantoms and dreams to me
 * Tier on tier of beautiful mountains and streams

Climbers are all afraid The moon shines on clear water twinkle twinkle Wind rustles the tall grass Plum trees flower in the snow Bare twisted trees have clouds for foliage A touch of rain brings it all alive Unless you see clearly do not approach
 * How wonderful is Cold Mountain

Roads to Cold Mountain are many and never ending The valleys are long and deep, the peaks piled high The streams are wide, the grass is thick The moss is slippery though there is no rain The pines sigh though there is no wind Who can escape the snares of the world And come to sit with me among the white clouds?
 * Climb the steep Cold Mountain way

I've lived by eating mountain fruits What is there to worry about? Life passes according to karma The months pass like a flowing stream Days and nights like sparks from flint Heaven and earth endlessly change While I sit happily among these cliffs
 * Since I retired to Cold Mountain

Roads do not go through Summer arrives yet the ice has not melted Though the sun is out it's foggy and dim How did I arrive here? My mind and yours are not the same When our minds are one You will be here too
 * People ask the way to Cold Mountain

The cloud road disappears The mountains are tall and steep The streams are wide and still Green mountains ahead and behind White clouds to east and west If you want to find the cloud road Seek it within
 * When people look for the road in the clouds

Note: The following three poems are examples of Han-shan's three word per line poems. They are literal translations, word for word, and illustrate a simple childlike side of the old poet:

Cold wind feet Not need fan Ice cold through Moon shines bright Mist covers everything Sit all alone One old man
 * Tiers of mountains

Ice freezes rock Mountains are green Snow is white Sun shines bright Every thing melt Every thing warm Warms old man
 * Cold Mountain cold

Forever not change I live alone Beyond life death
 * Cold Mountain Son

Note: The following two playful five word per line poems are also literal translations.

Thoughts somewhat far gone gone Clouds circle mountain soft soft Wind through valley swish swish Ape in tree bounce bounce Bird in forest chirp chirp Time turns hair gray gray Winter is here sad sad
 * Often sit alone happy happy

Cold cold ice cold cliff Chirp chirp often many birds Lone lone no sign people Swish swish wind blow face Gentle gentle snow settle head Day day no see sun Year year no see spring
 * Remote remote Cold Mountain road

A robe of clouds, rainbows for tassels The fragrant forest is the place to live The road has been long and difficult With a heart full of doubt and regret A life has passed and nothing has been accomplished Others call it failure I stand alone devoted to this Cold Mountain life
 * Someone sits in a mountain vale

Cold Mountain is guaranteed forever A light wind blows softly in the pines The sound is good when you are close One old man sits beneath the trees Reading Lao Tzu and Huang Ti, mumbling I could not find the world if I searched ten years I've forgotten the road by which I came Lao-tzu, quietly perusing. Ten years not returning, I forgot the way I had come.
 * If you want a peaceful place to dwell
 * Variant, lines 5–8:
 * Under a tree I'm reading
 * Translated by Katsuki Sekida

Ten thousand tiers of dangerous cliffs The stone bridge is slippery with green moss Cloud after cloud keeps flying by Waterfalls hang like ribbons of silk The moon shines down on the bright pool I climb the highest peak once more To wait where the lone crane flies
 * The higher the trail the steeper it grows

The valleys and streams are cold and damp Sitting quietly is beautiful The cliffs are lost in mist and fog I rest happily in this place At dusk the tree shadows are low I look into my mind A white lotus emerges from the dark mud
 * I sit cross-legged on the rock

Face haggard, hair white, I'm happy to still live in the mountains A cloth covered phantom watching the years flow by Why envy people with clever ways of living?
 * Old and sick, more than one hundred years

Am I who I am? Or am I not? Pondering these questions, I sit Leaning against the cliff while the years go by And the green grass grows up between my feet And the red dust settles on my head Then men of the world come and thinking me dead Bring offerings of wine and fruit
 * Do I have a body? Or have I none?

They are better for you than sutras Hang them up where you can see them Read them and read them again
 * If your house has Cold Mountain poems

Cold Mountain: 100 Poems by the T'ang Poet Han-shan

 * Cold Mountain: 100 Poems by the T'ang Poet Han-shan (1970), tr. Burton Watson, Columbia University Press, ISBN 0-231-03450-4.

T'ien T'ai: what more is there to say? Monkeys cry where valley mists are cold My grass gate blends with the color of the crags I pick leaves to thatch a hut among the pines Scoop out a pond and lead a runnel from the spring By now I am used to doing without the world Picking ferns I pass the years that are left
 * I divined and chose a distant place to dwell

Among mist-wrapped vines and rocky caves Here in the wilderness I am completely free With my friends, the white clouds, idling forever There are roads, but they do not reach the world Since I am mindless, who can rouse my thoughts On a bed of stone I sit, alone in the night While a round moon climbs up Cold Mountain
 * As for me, I delight in the every day Way

Their blue-green haze locked in clouds! Mists brush my thin cap with moisture Dew wets my coat of plaited straw On my feet I wear pilgrim's sandals My hand holds a stick of old rattan Though I look down again on the dusty world What is that land of dreams to me?
 * Story on Story of wonderful hills and streams

Cold Mountain? There is no road that goes through. Even in summer the ice doesn't melt; Though the sun comes out, the fog is blinding. How can you hope to get there by aping me? Your heart and mine are not alike. If your heart were the same as mine, Then you could journey to the very center!
 * People ask the way to Cold Mountain.

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.
 * I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,

Cold Mountain is good for a long stay The breeze blowing through the dark pines Sounds better the closer you come And under the trees a white haired man Mumbles over his Taoist texts Ten years now he hasn't gone home He's even forgotten the road he came by
 * If you're looking for a place to rest

They're better for you than sutra reading! Write them out and paste them on a screen Where you can glance over them from time to time
 * Do you have the poems of Han-shan in your house?

Disputed
The great Dao, all amid joy, is reborn. In a joyous state, ruler and subject accord, In a joyous home, father and son get along. If brothers increase their joy, the world will flourish. If husband and wife have joy, it's worthy of song. What guest and host can bear a lack of joy? Both high and low, in joy, lose their woe before long. Ha ha ha.
 * Worry for others— it does no good in the end.
 * Translated by Mary Jacob
 * Note: It is unlikely that this poem, translated by Mary Jacob, is authored by Han-shan. In comparing it with every poem in the corpus it will be found that there is not a close match. Moreover, neither the language nor the content of this poem is that of Han-shan. Most importantly, this poem does not have the appropriate number of lines for a Han-shan poem. Jacob's poem has 9 lines; there is not a single example of a 9 line poem in all of Han-shan's poetry. All of Han-shan's poems are 4, 8, 10 or 14 lines, with a few that have more than 14. Further, Jacob's poem has an odd number of lines; there is not a single example of a poem with an odd number of lines in all of Han-shan's poetry. Finally, the 9th and final line in Jacob's poem has the words “ha ha ha.” Not a single Han-shan poem has those words as a final line. Perhaps someone is having a joke?