"I'm always like this, up here, neither dead nor alive." This is a remarkable collection of poetry that is filled with interesting philosophy. You have the option to read these poems either scattershot or in a specific order. Each poem is independent, yet they can be strung together to form one long and captivating poem. What makes this collection truly excellent is its ability to transport you to another time and place. As I was reading, I could vividly envision myself on the Cold Mountain. The translation notes provided are also done extremely well, adding an extra layer of depth and understanding to the poems. It's a collection that is sure to engage and inspire readers, taking them on a journey through the author's unique perspective and thoughts.
Sitting alone I keep slipping awayYou can hear the poem expressed in unadorned language, without any artificial tricks. I like it. Since I am only academically interested in either Buddhism or Taoism, I must admit that I had my fill of those philosophies before reaching the end of the book. (There are many verses like "The suffering of the Wheel is relentless/ back and forth stirring up the dust/ the ant patrol on its endless round/ the Six Paths are nothing but confusion...") I tend to lean more towards the type of poem above, the ones that sound more like Wordsworth or something similar, rich in nature imagery. But even without a profound interest, I was glad to glean quite a bit of knowledge about religious thought during the Tang dynasty, simply by picking up bits and pieces through the poetry and the notes. Anyway, it was a fine read. No doubt others will find that aspect more to their liking. The volume also includes a few poems by two of Cold Mountain's associates, which is just like the whipped cream on top. Lots of people should be reading this. Maybe they already are. Nobody has consulted me. But if you like any of the things mentioned above, this should be an easy choice.
far off with the cares of my heart
clouds wander by the mountainside
wind rushes out the valley
gibbons swing from the trees
birds call through the forest
time slips past my temples
yearend finds me old with regrets