The Jade Mountain/Mountain Stones
Han Yü
愈 韓
MOUNTAIN-STONES
Rough were the mountain-stones, and the path very narrow;And when I reached the temple, bats were in the dusk.I climbed to the hall, sat on the steps, and drank the rain-washed airAmong the round gardenia-pods and huge banana-leaves.On the old wall, said the priest, were Buddhas finely painted,And he brought a light and showed me, and I called them wonderful.He spread the bed, dusted the mats, and made my supper ready,And, though the food was coarse, it satisfied my hunger.At midnight, while I lay there not hearing even an insect,The mountain moon with her pure light entered my door. . . .At dawn I left the mountain and, alone, lost my way:In and out, up and down, while a heavy mistMade brook and mountain green and purple, brightening everything.I am passing sometimes pines and oaks, which ten men could not girdle,I am treading pebbles barefoot in swift-running water—Its ripples purify my ear, while a soft wind blows my garments: . . . . These are the things which, in themselves, make life happy.Why should we be hemmed about and hampered with people?O chosen pupils, far behind me in my own country,What if I spent my old age here and never went back home?