J.P. Seaton
Cold Mountain Poems
XLVII
I was born just thirty years ago,
but I've wandered a million miles already.
Along the River through the green grass on the banks,
out to the borderlands, where the red dust roils.
Chewed herbs, cooked up alchemical elixirs,
trying to become an Immortal.
Read all the Writings, chanted the Histories aloud,
trying to learn them all by heart . . .
Today I'm on my way
home to Cold Mountain.
There, I'll bed down in the creek, just to wash out my ears.
_____________________
Cold Mountain Poems
Han Shan
edited and translated by J. P. Seaton
Shambhala Library, 2009
Imagine a world without Han Shan.
I can't. Won't. Like millions of others,
when young, I came first to Han Shan and his
Cold Mountain (location & poems) thanks to Gary Snyder
and every other one who came before and after him, they
all were wonderful because we're talking about Han Shan.
The natural wonder. I published and hand printed some of these
poems for Sandy Seaton once upon a time. How I enjoyed designing
and later folding in the decorative accordion booklets.
