These are poems of great serenity, great satisfaction, great joy. The Mountain Poems of Meng Hao-Jan can be read in an evening, revisited for a lifetime. Find time for it. —Kansas City Star
Brilliant translations of the work of one of ancient China's most influential poets. An early Taoist master.
- Steerforth Press
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- Barnes & Noble
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Read an Excerpt
Autumn begins unnoticed. Nights slowly lengthen,
and little by little, clear winds turn colder and colder,
summer’s blaze giving way. My thatch hut grows still.
At the bottom stair, in bunchgrass, lit dew shimmers.
Gathering firewood I enter mountain depths,
mountain depths rising creek beyond creek
choked with the timbers of bridges in ruins.
Vines tumble low, tangled over cragged paths,
and at dusk, scarce people grow scarcer still.
Mountain wind sweeping through simple robes,
my chant steady, I shoulder a light bundle,
watch smoke drift across open country home.
and post it to your social network
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