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67

Han Shan
The cold in these mountains is ferocious,
has been every year since the beginning.

Crowded peaks locked in perennial snows,
recluse-dark forests breathing out mists,

grasses never sprout before the solstice
and leaves start falling in early August.

This confusion includes a lost guest now,
searching, searching—no sky to be seen.

Copyright © 2005 by David Hinton. From Mountain Home. Reprinted with permission of New Directions Press.

Copyright © 2005 by David Hinton. From Mountain Home. Reprinted with permission of New Directions Press.

Han Shan