The Han Shan Poems
'I'm running late for an unscheduled event
At which my ego will soon be deflated'
Marcus Cumberlege
Han Shan ('Cold Mountain') is a figure associated with a collection of poems of the Tang dynasty in the Taoist/Zen tradition. If he existed, he may have lived in the 8th or 9th century, but he could have been one of several other buddhist monks or indeed none of them. In Chinese painting he is depicted with his friends, the younger Shih-Te and the older Fenggan, both poets, all three being known as the 'Tientai Trio'. Apparently, Shan Tan was a fugitive who made his home in the mountains of China's south-east coast. He may also have been disabled. Certain liberties have been taken with the possible truth in these poems.
1 On Cold Mountain
Han Shan Goes For A Walk
Here on Cold Mountain,
I forget to measure out the days;
I'm either happy or sad,
there's either sun or rain;
the list of things to mend grows longer,
the dust silts up my books.
After a bad-tempered start
I come out glowering into the light;
stepping through the grass I hear an ant say:
That dark sky must mean the end of the world!
Today of all days this should happen to me!
Han Shan the Survivor
I have learned to get up early with hard eyes,
wary of my own comforts; I know when to
break cover and when to go to ground.
I take my medicine even on the sunniest days;
I walk slowly down the mountain knowing
the follies of sportsmen; I know where
I come from and that I can't carry it all with me
where I'm going; I know that now may only
get better when it becomes then; I know that
there will be days when, even with this roof
over my head, I have no protection from the gale.
Han Shan's Reputation
From a yellowing newspaper
that blew through my front door one day,
I discovered that out in the world I was
known as 'The Buddha of Cold Mountain'.
After scraping last night's dishes
and wringing out last weeks' robe,
I sat and dreamed of Fame,
how I would be carried in procession through the city
and worshipped by beautiful young nuns.
Just then it began to rain and I found
that the newspaper exactly matched the hole in my roof.
Han Shan The Drunkard
I used to have ambitions
back when I was tangled up in the world,
now I have the embers of this dying fire
and a jug of mountain brew;
outside, the white lady's in the sky
and the grasshoppers sing their song of home;
sadly I remember myself as a boy
curious, eager, awkward, ardent, trusting,
and I think of what the world made me;
have another slug, let's drink to him, that boy
who knows now how to paint his dreams on the clouds.
Han Shan and The Book
After an arduous journey made to the city
and back by farm cart and donkey, Shih-Te
arrived on my doorstep full of new ideas.
'Han Shan,' he began orotundly,
'That's my name,' I replied, 'but what's yours
now?' He ignored me. 'In the city,' he
began again, ' there are men who would pay you
handsomely for a book of your thoughts!
We would be rich [we?] and it might only
take you a year or two to set out your whole philosophy!'
After I'd kicked him, I shouted: 'How's that for philosophy?'
Han Shan and Freedom
When Fenggan is drunk and has had enough of
talking about women and monks who break their vows,
he tends to wax maudlin;
'Han Shan, tell me, if people are self-centred,
human schemes are doomed to failure and
so many of us retire penniless and full of bitterness from the city,
what hope can we fugitives have of true freedom?'
'Fenggan, ' I replied, 'Have some more
Mountain Brew, then when you can barely utter a word
and fall down on your arse, just say 'Damn! Drunk again!'
then you'll know what freedom is.'
2 The Legend of Han Shan
Han Shan and The Mystic
Finally a mystic found his way up Cold Mountain
after setting out on a pilgrimage from the city.
'Master, ' he cried, when he met Han Shan
coming back from the privy,
'Master! I bring you the purest love from the
Great Force that dwells within us all!'
Han Shan finished doing up his trousers
and gave the mystic a disgruntled look,
then pushed him into the nearest prickly bush.
'Will the Great Force get you out of there?' he asked
as he walked away, 'Or is He too pure to get his hands dirty?'
Han Shan's Last Meditation
When Han Shan had grown very old,
he sat down to meditate outside his hut;
As he meditated, he noticed that his thoughts wouldn't finish themselves
and that his mind was thrashing about like a salmon in a river.
He stayed sitting there until night fell, when
Shih-Te and Fenggan, who had brought a jug
of Mountain Brew, found him there;
'Han Shan,' they cried, 'What are you doing?
It's dark and you'll freeze out here.'
Han Shan opened one eye. 'I've noticed,' he sighed,
'that neither of you are looking as young as you used to.'
Han Shan's Funeral
According to Han Shan's last request,
Shen Te and Fenaggan burnt his body and
carried the ashes in a cooking pot to the
top of Cold Mountain.
'Don't you feel stupid doing this?' said Shen Te.
'We must respect his wishes,' Fenggan replied.
'I suppose you're right,' said Shen Te, regretfully.
They both took a slug of Mountain Brew then
poured the rest into the cooking pot;
'Right,' said Fenggan, taking out a brush, 'I'm no artist,
but which cloud shall we start with?'
Han Shan Has The Last Word
If you're expecting minor deities in
floating robes, each with their own personal halo,
you'll be sorely disappointed:
in fact, things aren't a lot different up here.
Wind is wind, rain is rain,
there's still nothing to do in the evenings
except meditate or count bed bugs;
still, waking follows sleep just as sleep
follows waking; wood needs chopping,
nettles making into soup and I'm working on ways
to manifest myself to impressionable young nuns...