Posted on February 9, 2014
Someone sighed “Cold Mountain sir
Your poems possess no sense”
I said for the Ancients
Poverty was no disgrace
To this he answered laughing
“Such talk is poorly reasoned”
Well sir then be as you are
With money your concern.
(Han Shan, a.k.a. Cold Mountain, Chinese poet, 8th century)
Amused I am
That I find myself chuckling
At the wry, dry, mischievous humor
Of a Chinese blogger, who lived
Twelve hundred years ago.
He’s funny, in an understated way
And honest, for the materials he used.
On rocks and walls, and trees and huts
He carved the essence of his mind.
In his own way you could say
He exposed for us the rotting guts
Of his contemporary nuts.
The folk who walk and strut and preen
Serene in their all knowing mind
That they possess superior skill
At understanding human will.
I’m with Han Shan, in my simple way
And see all money as just a tool
To use for good, or that rainy day
Not covet like a greedy fool.
In poverty, there’s no disgrace
If we tried hard, and ran the race
If Fate decrees thin chicken broth
or last year’s well worn cotton cloth
Who cares as long as in our dreams
we see the pure, Cold Mountain streams.