Tuesday, November 10, 2020



J.P. Seaton

Cold Mountain Poems


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.