Someone sits in a mountain vale A robe of clouds, rainbows for tassels The fragrant forest is the place to live The road has been long and difficult With a heart full of doubt and regret A life has passed and nothing has been accomplished Others call it failure I stand alone devoted to this Cold Mountain life

If your house has Cold Mountain poems They are better for you than sutras Hang them up where you can see them Read them and read them again

Though face and form alter with the years, I hold fast to the pearl of my mind.

Climb the steep Cold Mountain way Roads to Cold Mountain are many and never ending The valleys are long and deep, the peaks piled high The streams are wide, the grass is thick The moss is slippery though there is no rain The pines sigh though there is no wind Who can escape the snares of the world And come to sit with me among the white clouds?

I sit cross-legged on the rock The valleys and streams are cold and damp Sitting quietly is beautiful The cliffs are lost in mist and fog I rest happily in this place At dusk the tree shadows are low I look into my mind A white lotus emerges from the dark mud

When you live on Cold Mountain long enough the autumns pass quickly When you live alone you have no worries When you leave the doors open no one bothers you The bubbling stream runs forever In the cave a clay pot boils over a fire on the ground A wandering breeze stirs the fragrant pines When hungry I eat one simple meal And lean against the rock in complete harmony

The higher the trail the steeper it grows Ten thousand tiers of dangerous cliffs The stone bridge is slippery with green moss Cloud after cloud keeps flying by Waterfalls hang like ribbons of silk The moon shines down on the bright pool I climb the highest peak once more To wait where the lone crane flies