Cold Mountain Poem Twenty Three by Han-Shan. Snyder.
Translated by Gary
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 the 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.
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