The Poems
Twelve poems spanning Hanshan's range — from ice-cold isolation to luminous clarity to rough-edged humor.
The Cold Mountain Path 杳杳寒山道
Poem 01
杳杳寒山道，落落冷涧滨。
啾啾常有鸟，寂寂更无人。
淅淅风吹面，纷纷雪积身。
朝朝不见日，岁岁不知春。
Long, long the road to Cold Mountain,
Desolate, desolate the banks of the cold stream.
Chirp, chirp — there are always birds;
Silent, silent — and no one else.
Whisk, whisk — the wind blows on my face;
Flurry, flurry — snow piles on my body.
Morning after morning, no sun seen;
Year after year, no knowing spring.
Craft: Every line uses a reduplicated onomatopoeia (杳杳、落落、啾啾、寂寂、淅淅、纷纷、朝朝、岁岁) — the sound is the landscape. The poem doesn't describe isolation; it performs it. You read it and you are there, inside the snow, inside the silence.
My Mind Is Like the Autumn Moon 吾心似秋月
Poem 02
吾心似秋月，碧潭清皎洁。
无物堪比伦，教我如何说。
My mind is like the autumn moon,
In the green pool, clear and bright.
There is nothing that can compare to it —
Tell me, how can I speak of it?
Reading: The poet offers a comparison (mind = moon), then immediately
withdraws it — "nothing can compare." The poem enacts the Chan paradox: any image of awakening is not the awakening. The last line is not defeat; it is the deepest teaching.
Full deep reading →
I Dwell in the Deep Rocks 重岩我卜居
Poem 03
重岩我卜居，鸟道绝人迹。
庭际何所有，白云抱幽石。
I chose to dwell among layered cliffs,
On bird paths where no human footprint leads.
What is there before my courtyard?
White clouds embracing dark stones.
Reading: The final image — "white clouds embracing dark stones" — is one of Chinese poetry's great enso moments. The cloud doesn't know it's embracing; the stone doesn't know it's held. This is "ordinary mind" made visible.
Men Ask the Way to Cold Mountain 人问寒山道
Poem 04
人问寒山道，寒山路不通。
夏天冰未释，日出雾朦胧。
似我何由届，与君心不同。
君心若似我，还得到其中。
Men ask the way to Cold Mountain.
Cold Mountain — there's no through road.
Summer ice still hasn't melted;
The morning sun emerges through thick fog.
How did I get here? you ask.
My heart is not the same as yours.
If your heart were like mine,
You'd already be here.
Reading: The poem that defines Hanshan's entire project. "Cold Mountain — there's no through road" — it's not a geographic description; it's a statement about awakening. You can't navigate there with a map. You arrive by becoming the kind of person who is already there. The mountain doesn't move; you do.
Thirty Years at Cold Mountain 三十年来寻剑客
Poem 05
三十年来寻剑客，几回落叶又抽枝。
自从一见桃花后，直至如今更不疑。
For thirty years I sought a swordsman,
Many times the leaves fell and grew again.
Since the day I saw the peach blossoms,
I have never had another doubt.
Reading: An echo of Lingyun's awakening on seeing peach blossoms — a classic Chan motif. Thirty years of seeking, resolved in a single glance at flowers. The "swordsman" is the master, the teaching, the breakthrough. The leaves fell and grew — seasons of effort. Then: one look, and it's done.
I Laugh at Cold Mountain 可笑寒山道
Poem 06
可笑寒山道，而无车马踪。
联溪难记曲，叠嶂不知重。
滴沥天光碧，嶙峋石色浓。
无风吹面冷，非日照头红。
How laughable — the road to Cold Mountain!
No tracks of horse or carriage here.
Linked streams — impossible to count their bends;
Layered peaks — who knows how many folds?
Dripping, the sky's light turns to jade;
Jagged, the stone's color deepens.
No wind blows, yet the face feels cold;
No sun shines, yet the head turns red.
Reading: Hanshan's humor — "how laughable!" Not bitter, not ironic. The laughter of someone who has stopped pretending the world makes sense and found that funny instead of terrifying. Cold without wind; red without sun. Paradox as punchline.
Clinging to Delusions 多少般数人
Poem 07
多少般数人，百计求名利。
心贪觅荣华，经营图富贵。
心未片时歇，奔突如烟气。
家眷实团圆，一呼百唤至。
How many kinds of people there are!
A hundred schemes to seek fame and profit.
Greedy hearts chasing glory and splendor,
Plotting and planning for wealth and rank.
Their minds never rest for a single moment,
Rushing about like wisps of smoke.
Their families truly gather round —
One call, a hundred answers come.
Reading: Hanshan the social critic — not angry, just clear. The image of "rushing about like wisps of smoke" captures the futility without contempt. He's not above these people; he's simply chosen a different path. The last couplet is almost tender — even the worldly life has its warmth.
If You're Looking for a Place to Rest 欲得安身处
Poem 08
欲得安身处，寒山可长保。
微风吹幽松，近听愈好。
If you're looking for a place to rest,
Cold Mountain can be kept forever.
A light breeze blows through the hidden pines —
The closer you listen, the better it sounds.
Reading: Two lines that contain an entire meditation instruction. "The closer you listen, the better it sounds" — attention deepens experience. This isn't metaphor; it's technique. Sit. Listen. The pine wind teaches everything.
My Heart Is Like the Moon 我心似秋月
Poem 09
我心似秋月，碧潭清皎洁。
无物堪比伦，教我如何说。
本自无映照，岂有圆缺时。
若能如是见，便是解脱期。
My heart is like the autumn moon,
In the green pool, clear and bright.
Nothing can compare to it —
How can I speak of it?
Originally there was no reflection;
How can there be a time of fullness or waning?
If you can see it this way,
That is the time of liberation.
Reading: The extended version of Poem 2. "Originally there was no reflection" — the moon in the pool is not the moon. The image is not the thing. Fullness and waning belong to the reflection, not to the real. Liberation is seeing the moon, not the pool.
Worldly People Seek the Way 世间浊滥人
Poem 10
世间浊滥人，恰似黍粘子。
一朝浮名牵，奔波不停止。
The muddled people of this world
Are just like sticky millet seeds.
Once pulled by empty fame,
They rush about without ever stopping.
Reading: "Sticky millet seeds" — a farmer's image for attachment. Once fame sticks to you, you can't shake it off. Hanshan's critique is never abstract; it's always grounded in the physical, the agricultural, the obvious.
Cold Cliff, Cold Ice 寒山顶上月
Poem 11
寒山顶上月，孤高不可攀。
白云来复去，此处非人间。
The moon above Cold Mountain's peak —
So solitary and high, it cannot be reached.
White clouds come and go;
This place is not the human world.
Reading: "This place is not the human world" — but it's not heaven either. It's the space between, where clouds come and go and the moon doesn't care whether you see it. Hanshan's transcendence is not escape; it's altitude.
My Poems on the Wall 五言五百篇
Poem 12
五言五百篇，七字七十九。
三字二十一，都来六百首。
一例书岩石，自夸云好手。
若能会我诗，真是如来母。
Five-character poems — five hundred;
Seven-character poems — seventy-nine.
Three-character poems — twenty-one;
All together, six hundred pieces.
Every one inscribed on rock —
I boast: here's a skilled hand.
If you can understand my poems,
You are truly the Mother of the Tathagata.
Reading: Hanshan's only self-referential poem — a poet's CV, written with a grin. "I boast: here's a skilled hand" — false modesty? Genuine pride? Both? The last line is the kicker: understanding these poems equals enlightenment. Not a small claim — and not entirely a joke.