He was said by the nearby people to be crazy…. his hair always messed up, and his clothes on crooked…. he’d beg for food from monks at a monastery, they’d feed him while trying to tell him to ‘act right’… they got upset because he had ‘inappropriate laughter’ and other …’issues’ that made people uncomfortable to be around him. He was probably from an aristocratic family because some of his poems mention falcons, and using horses for racing and hunting…. things the common people did not do. He also mentions trying to apply for government positions, but says he has illnesses that are exposed by the doctors. After he died hikers and wanderers that visited his caves and cliffs found poems carved into the trees and stones…. they are beautiful in a strange way… and a bit of a look into a person that was perhaps wounded, and trying to heal himself in the wilds.
Alone, I hum a song – utterly without regret.
Hungry, I eat one grain of Immortal medicine
Mind solid and sharp; leaning on a stone.
On top of Cold Mountain the lone round moon
Lights the whole clear cloudless sky.
Honor this priceless natural treasure
Concealed in five shadows, sunk deep in the flesh.
My home was at Cold Mountain from the start,
Rambling among the hills, far from trouble.
Gone, and a million things leave no trace
Loosed, and it flows through galaxies
A fountain of light, into the very mind -
Not a thing, and yet it appears before me:
Now I know the pearl of the Buddha nature
Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.
the ruined city, that wakes the traveler’s thoughts:
ancient battlements, high and low;
old grave mounds, great and small.
… Where the shadow of a single tumbleweed trembles
and the voice of the great trees clings forever,
I sigh over all these common bones –
No roll of the immortals bears their names
get out of the burning house now
three carts wait outside
to save you from a homeless life
relax in the village square
… before the sky everything’s empty
no direction is better or worse
east is just as good as west
those who know the meaning of this
are free to go where they want
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 world’s ties
And sit with me among the white clouds?
Here’s a message for the faithful
what is it that you cherish
to find the Way to see your nature
your nature is naturally so
what Heaven bestows is perfect
looking for proof leads you astray
leaving the trunk to search among the twigs
all you get is stupid
Cold Cliff’s remoteness
Is what I love
No one travels this way
Clouds lie around on the peaks
A lone gibbon howls on the ridge
What else do I cherish?
It’s good to grow old content
Cold and heat change my
Appearance;the pearl
Of my mind stays safe
))