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Poetry
Written in the Cold, Viewing Nine Peaks
Four poems of Kuan Hsiu (832-912)
J. P. Seaton
Nine tall green stalks
the tops snow white
the lotus, opened.
If Wang Wei didn't paint it
it's not been painted yet.
Layer upon layer
to each its own cascade.
One, and all, together
a place I would live.
When the rain ceases they thrust through again.
Stern frost won't wither them.
In the world of men there's still so much left undone,
yet in this place I linger,
linger, long.
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