No, not the book by Charles Frazier (although he was referencing these in a big way, I think), but the poems by crazy Buddhist poet and mountaineer Han Shan. And since yesterday was clear and cold with new snow on the mountains, I thought of some of them:


Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,
The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,
The wide creek, the mist blurred grass.
The moss is slippery, though there’s been no rain
The pine sings, but there’s no wind.
Who can leap the word’s ties
And sit with me among the white clouds?


Spring water in the green creek is clear
Moonlight on Cold Mountain is white
Silent knowledge – the spirit is enlightened of itself
Contemplate the void: this world exceeds stillness.