Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems Book

I have owned this book for awhile, and just picked it up again because I have been reading poems by Cold Mountain (Han-Shan) and wanted to see other translations. Gary Snyder has translated only 24 of them, but that was enough for Han-Shan to become popularized in the U.S.

Gary Snyder enrolled at U.C. Berkeley back in 1953, and one of his professors, Chen Shih-hsiang, encouraged them to translate them because he felt that Snyder may have an affinity with them. And that he did.

I read the Riprap poems in his book, but I didn't care for them. I have always found beat poetry to be too obscure. But since finding that he has written a Pulitzer Prize winning book, "Turtle Island," I must read it and see how I feel afterwards.

Here is his translation of one of Cold Mountain's poems by Gary Snyder :

Men ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain: there's no through trail.
In summer, ice doesn't melt
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
How did I make it?
My heart's not the same as yours.
If your heart was like mine
You'd get it and be right here.

Now here is Red Pine's rendition:

People ask the way to Cold Mountain
but roads don't reach Cold Mountain
In Summer the ice doesn't melt
and the morning fog is too dense
how did someone like me arrive
our minds are not the same
if they were you would be here.

And here is Wandering Poet's translation:

People ask the way to Cold Mountain
Roads do not go through
Summer arrives yet
the ice has not melted
Though the sun is out it's
foggy and dim
How did I arrive here?
My mind and yours are
not the same
When our minds are one
You will be here too.

Seaton's:

People ask about the Cold
Mountain way:
plain roads don't get through to
Cold Mountain.
Middle of the summer, and the ice
still hasn't melted.
Sunrise and the mist would blind a
hidden dragon.
So, how could a man like me get
here?
My heart is not the same as yours,
dear sir...
If your heart were like mine,
you'd be here already.


and last of all, here is Bruce Watson's translation of the same poem, my favorite:


People ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain? There is no road that goes through.
Even in summer the ice doesn't melt;
Though the sun comes out, the fog is blinding.
How can you hope to get there by aping me?
Your heart and mine are not alike.
If your heart were the same as mind,
Then you could journey to the very center!

Here is what I call the "bare bones" of this poem, a direct translation of the Chinese:

I love mountain
Not people know
White cloud middle
Always peace

As for other poems in this book that were not Cold Mountain's, well, they are beat, they are hard to understand, but sometimes they actually do make sense. Here's one that does and doesn't, but in reading it again, it actually does make sense:

In a quiet dusty corner
on the north porch
Some farmers eating lunch on the steps.
Up high behind a beam: a small
carved wood panel
Of leaves, twisting tree trunk,
Ivy, and a sleek fine-haired Doe
a six-point Buck in front
Head crooked back, watching her.
The great tile roof sweeps up
& floats a grey shale
Mountain over the town.
Note: Dates different books were written:
gary snyder, 1958
burton watson 1962
red pine 1983
wandering poet, 2007
seaton 2011