Hanshan (poet)

Fenggan (left), Hanshan (center), and Shide (right). Ueno Jakugen, 18th century, Japan

Hanshan (Chinese: 寒山; pinyin: Hánshān; literally "Cold Mountain", fl. 9th century) was a legendary figure associated with a collection of poems from the Chinese Tang Dynasty in the Taoist and Chan tradition. No one knows who he was, or when he lived and died. He is honored as an incarnation of the Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī in Zen lore. In Japanese and Chinese paintings he is often depicted together with his sidekick Shide or with Fenggan, another monk with legendary attributes.

Date

In Lu Jiuyin's (Wade–Giles: Lu Ch'iu-Yin) preface to Hanshan's poems, he claims to have personally met both Hanshan and Shide at the kitchen of Guoqing Temple, but they responded to his salutations with laughter then fled. Afterwards, he attempted to give them clothing and provide them housing, but Lu Jiuyin writes that the pair fled into a cave which closed itself and Shide's tracks disappeared. This led Lu Jiuyin, governor of Tai Prefecture, to collect Hanshan's writings, "the poems written on bamboo, wood, stones, and cliffs — and also to collect those written on the walls of peoples' houses." However, Burton Watson is of the opinion that Lu Jiuyin did not exist in reality and that his preface to Hanshan's poems is nothing more than myth. On page 8 in the introduction to his book, he says of Lu Jiuyin's preface to the poems:

[The preface], contrary to Chinese custom, is undated. Lu-chiu Yin represents himself as a high official and prefixes his name with a very imposing title. But there is only one mention of anyone by this name to be found in other works of the period, and it refers almost certainly to another person. This fact alone is peculiar enough, if Lu-chiu Yin was in fact as high up in the bureaucracy as his title indicates. Furthermore, the style of the preface, awkward and wordy, hardly suggests the writing of an eminent official. All other sources that tell us anything about Han-shan and Shih-te appear to be later than the preface and based upon it. For all we know, therefore, the whole picture of the two recluses built up in the preface may be nothing more than literary fiction. The poems, however, remain — over three hundred of them....If the reader wishes to know the biography of Han-shan, he must deduce it from the poems themselves.

If we follow Watson and discount the preface of Lu Jiuyin, accepting only the words of the poet himself, we see that Hanshan says only that he wrote his poems on the rocks. Nowhere in the poetry does he say that he wrote them on trees or bamboo or wood or the walls of people’s houses.

The collection of poems attributed to Hanshan may span the entire Tang Dynasty as Edwin G. Pulleyblank asserts in his study Linguistic Evidence for the Date of Hanshan. He identifies him as the monk Zhiyan (智岩, 577–654), but that has been disputed by Paul Demiéville among others. The Encyclopedia of China gives his date as around 712 and after 793. Jia Jinhua came to the conclusion, after a study of Chan phrases in some 50 of the poems, that this particular group of poems may be attributable to the Chan monk Caoshan Benji (840–901). However, the dates for both Zhiyan and Caoshan Benji contradict Hanshan, who says that he was much older than either. In several of the poems he says that he is 70...100...and more than 100 years old.

Translations

The poems have often been translated, by Arthur Waley (1954), Gary Snyder (1958), and Burton Watson (1970), among others. The first complete translation to a western language was into French by Patrick Carré (fr) in 1985. There are two full English translations, by Robert G. Henricks (1990), and Red Pine (Copper Canyon Press, 1983, 2000). There is a collection of 130 of the poems, Encounters With Cold Mountain, by Peter Stambler.

Little is known of his work, since he was a recluse living in a remote region and his poems were written on rocks in the mountains he called home. Of the 600 poems he is thought to have written at some point before his death, 313 were collected and have survived. Among the 57 poems attributed to Hanshan's friend, Shide, seven appear to be authored by Hanshan, for a total of 320.

All translations here are Red Pine's, except where noted.

Biography

Yan Hui, Han Shan 寒山. Color on silk. Tokyo National Museum

“If the reader wishes to know the biography of Han-shan, he must deduce it from the poems themselves.”

No one knows who wrote the Cold Mountain poetry, though it has inspired the poets of many generations and cultures. The poems were found written on the rocks in a remote region around China's Mount Tiantai, on the coast south of Shanghai and Hangzhou. They tell the story of a gentle recluse, born in the Tang Dynasty, more than a thousand years ago, and of his long life in the mountains as a “guest” of Nature, living in a cave and foraging for food.

The poems tell us that he was privileged and began life in a good family. “My father and mother left me secure; I need not envy the fields of other men.” He was a scholar, educated in history, the classics and mathematics. “In vain I tried to understand the Three Histories; Uselessly I studied the Five Classics.” He was privileged and widely traveled. “I think of all the places I’ve been, Chasing about from one famous spot to another.” He was a musician. “I feasted with friends in Chrysanthemum Valley, Carried my guitar to Peacock Isle.” He hunted with falcons from horseback. “Racing with the wind on my white horse, I yelled at the hares and loosed my hawks on them!”

He was trained in calligraphy and the arts: [[[Wikipedia:etiquette|etiquette]], music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy and mathematics]. He was proud of his mastery, “Boasting, my brushwork is strong.” He was trained in martial arts and weapons, familiar with the use of sword, bow, and crossbow. “I was a student with books and sword…I studied the arts of war and the arts of peace, the arts of peace and the arts of war.” He served in the military and went to war. Though, he won no medals or honors. “I fought in the west but won no honors.” After his military service, he worked for a while as a clerk or bookkeeper. He became frustrated and discouraged at being passed over repeatedly, because of a handicap, or possibly a war injury, for civil service positions he was well qualified for. Finally, he quit competing and striving. He married, moved to a remote farm at the edge of the forest. He became a farmer and raised a family. “I gather wild fruit with my son; I hoe the hillside field with my wife.”

He loved books. He always lived among piles of books. “In my house what do I have? A bed surrounded with piles of books.” All his life, to the very end, even while living with the elements at Cold Mountain, he always had books. “One or two heavenly books I read, mumbling, beneath the pines.” He describes himself as simple, quiet, honest, straightforward and lazy.

Up to this point his life can be compared to that of any well born modern youth. He was privileged, educated, traveled, served in the military, went to war, came home to seek a career, married and began to raise a family.

But as the years pass, the poet becomes unhappy and dissatisfied with his life. “Why am I always so depressed? I am filled with sadness, A sadness I can hardly endure.” He leaves home and family behind, packs up some books and begins to wander. He experiences a growing sense that life has been wasted, that life has passed him by and nothing has been accomplished. “With a heart full of doubt and regret, A life has passed and nothing is accomplished.” He becomes increasingly lonely. In the modern world, he sees selfishness and greed, ignorance and corruption. Nothing has changed in a thousand years. Disappointed with life and his fellow man, he becomes withdrawn, sinks into poverty and depression.

In this low state, he turns his back on the civilized world and goes to live out his remaining years in solitude in the mountains as a hermit, “Why am I always so depressed? What shall I do? Say, what shall I do? Take this old body home and hide it in the mountains.” He settles at a remote place called Cold Mountain, where “I gather leaves and thatch a hut among the pines, dig a pond and lead a trickle from the brook.” He plants a small vegetable garden, digs a pond and stocks it with fish. But a hut and garden require maintenance. When the hut turns gray with age and falls apart, and “Weeds fill the garden, New vines climb and hang everywhere, Monkeys strip the trees of mountain fruit, Egrets and cranes eat all the pond fish,” he moves to a large no maintenance cave at the base of a cliff high on the south face of Cold Mountain. His distant view of the world of men is often hidden when the mountain becomes shrouded in mist and cloud. “Cold Mountain is hidden in white clouds, It’s peaceful to be cut off from the busy world.”

With his growing knowledge of herb lore, he no longer bothers to tend a garden, but relies increasingly on foraging. A garden requires constant attention. Foraging requires only that you have a basket and know when and where to look when things are ready to harvest. “Carrying a basket I gather mountain mushrooms, Carrying a bucket I return with fruit.” You let Nature take care of the planting, weeding and watering. This approach calls for an intimate knowledge of the land and the things that grow there, and confidence that Nature will provide for your needs. “Since I came to Cold Mountain, I’ve lived by eating mountain fruits, What is there to worry about?” Finally, the poet comes to look on Nature as his host and himself as Nature’s “guest.” He now takes his food entirely from the forest, living in the clouds as a hermit poet, harvesting and dining on ‘mountain fruit.’ “Here I lay out a handful of mountain fruit…Rushes serve in place of a mat, A plantain leaf will do for a plate.”

“Mountain fruit” is his metaphor for the generosity of Nature, for the variety of wild edibles that make up his diet, the ferns and other wild greens, assorted mushrooms, wild plums, cherries, peaches, olives, plantains and other fruits, bamboo shoots, edible roots, medicinal herbs. These and more are mentioned in the poems.

The poet lived a very long life in his cave on Cold Mountain. In one poem he says he is more than 70, in another that he is 100, and in yet another that he is more than 100 years old. “Old and sick, more than one hundred years, Face haggard, hair white, I’m happy to still live in the mountains, A cloth covered phantom watching the years flow by.” He may have lived to be as old as 120. One poem indicates that he may have retired to Cold Mountain while still in his 30s. “Thirty years ago I was born into the world…And today I’ve come home to Cold Mountain.” If true, this means that he spent between 70 and 90 years living on Cold Mountain as Nature’s “guest.”

His main preoccupations seem to have been reading ancient texts, laughing, singing, dancing, writing poems on the rocks, taking long leisurely walks to explore the terrain and to gather food and firewood, or to visit his friends, Big-stick and Pick-up, two poet monks who lived at Kuoching Temple, a day’s walk from his cave on Cold Mountain. These are the only close friends the poet mentions in the poems. Both sometimes make the climb to visit him at home in his cave.

Once settled at Cold Mountain, it quickly becomes clear in the poetry that the poet has left the world behind. He has transcended the civilized world and is now in heaven, at one with his wild surroundings. For the first time in his life he is completely happy and at peace. He becomes like a child. The poems are simple and direct, yet majestic. They reflect a new state of mind and have the power to lift the reader to share a moment in the poet’s heaven. No one knows when or how he died.

Poetry

See also  :

Hanshan's poetry consists of Chinese verse, in 3, 5, or 7 character lines; never shorter than 4 lines, and never longer than 34 lines. The language is marked by the use of more colloquial Medieval Vernacular Sinitic than almost any other Tang poet. The poems can be seen to fall into three categories: the biographical poems about his life before he arrived at Cold Mountain; the religious and political poems, generally critical of conventional wisdom and those who embrace it; and the transcendental poems, about his sojourn at Cold Mountain. They are notable for their straightforwardness, which contrasts sharply with the cleverness and intricateness that marked typical Tang Dynasty poetry.

Red Pine poem 283:

    Mister Wang the Graduate
    laughs at my poor prosody.
    I don't know a wasp's waist
    much less a crane's knee.
    I can't keep my flat tones straight,
    all my words come helter-skelter.
    I laugh at the poems he writes-
    a blind man's songs about the sun!

(All these terms refer to ways a poem could be defective according to the rigid poetic structures then prevalent.)

Thematically, Hanshan draws heavily on Buddhist and Taoist themes, often remarking on life's short and transient nature, and the necessity of escape through some sort of transcendence. He varies and expands on this theme, sometimes speaking of Mahayana Buddhism's 'Great Vehicle', and other times of Taoist ways and symbols like cranes.

The following poem begins with the imagery of the burning house and the three carts from the Parable of the Burning House found in The Lotus Sutra, then ends with typical Zen and Taoist imagery of freedom from conceptualizations.

Red Pine poem 253:

    Children, I implore you
    get out of the burning house now.
    Three carts await outside
    to save you from a homeless life.
    Relax in the village square
    before the sky, everything's empty.
    No direction is better or worse,
    East just as good as West.
    Those who know the meaning of this
    are free to go where they want.

This mixed influence is probably due to the high preponderance of Taoists and Buddhists in the same area. The eminent Taoist Ge Hong acclaimed Mount Tiantai as 'the perfect place for practicing the arts of immortality,' which is probably also why so many Buddhist temples were established in the vicinity as well.

Red Pine poem 13:

    "Brothers share five districts;
    father and sons three states."
    To learn where the wild ducks fly
    follow the white-hare banner!
    Find a magic melon in your dream!
    Steal a sacred orange from the palace!
    Far away from your native land
    swim with fish in a stream!

Many poems display a deep concern for humanity, which in his view stubbornly refuses to look ahead, and short-sightedly indulges in all manner of vice, like eating animal flesh, piling up sins 'high as Mount Sumeru'. But he holds out hope that people may yet be saved; 'Just the other day/ a demon became a Bodhisattva.'

Red Pine poem 18:

    I spur my horse past ruins;
    ruins move a traveler's heart.
    The old parapets high and low
    the ancient graves great and small,
    the shuddering shadow of a tumbleweed,
    the steady sound of giant trees.
    But what I lament are the common bones
    unnamed in the records of immortals.

While Hanshan eschewed fancy techniques and obscure erudition, his poems are still highly evocative at times: Red Pine poem 106:

    The layered bloom of hills and streams
    Kingfisher shades beneath rose-colored clouds
    mountain mists soak my cotton bandanna,
    dew penetrates my palm-bark coat.
    On my feet are traveling shoes,
    my hand holds an old vine staff.
    Again I gaze beyond the dusty world-
    what more could I want in that land of dreams?

He is hard to pin down religiously. Chan concepts and terminology sometimes appear in his work. But he criticized the Buddhists at Tiantai, and he directed criticism at Taoists as well, having had no problem bringing Taoist scriptural quotations, and Taoist language when describing his mountains, into his poems. Yet, he does not mince words, but tells us precisely where to find the path to Heaven.

Red Pine poem 117:

    I deplore this vulgar place
    where demons dwell with worthies.
    They say they're the same,
    but is the Tao impartial?
    A fox might ape a lion's mien
    and claim the disguise is real,
    but once ore enters the furnace,
    we soon see if it's gold or base.

Red Pine poem 246:

    I recently hiked to a temple in the clouds
    and met some Taoist priests.
    Their star caps and moon caps askew
    they explained they lived in the wild.
    I asked them the art of transcendence;
    they said it was beyond compare,
    and called it the peerless power.
    The elixir meanwhile was the secret of the gods
    and that they were waiting for a crane at death,
    or some said they'd ride off on a fish.
    Afterwards I thought this through
    and concluded they were all fools.
    Look at an arrow shot into the sky-
    how quickly it falls back to earth.
    Even if they could become immortals,
    they would be like cemetery ghosts.
    Meanwhile the moon of our mind shines bright.
    How can phenomena compare?
    As for the key to immortality,
    within ourselves is the chief of spirits.
    Don't follow Lords of the Yellow Turban
    persisting in idiocy, holding onto doubts.

The following poem is attributed to Hanshan's friend, Shide.

    The higher the trail the steeper it grows
    Ten thousand tiers of dangerous cliffs
    The stone bridge is slippery with green moss
    Cloud after cloud keeps flying by
    Waterfalls hang like ribbons of silk
    The moon shines down on a bright pool
    I climb the highest peak once more
    To wait where the lone crane flies

Red Pine's poem 307:

    Whoever has Cold Mountain's poems
    is better off than those with sutras.
    Write them up on your screen
    and read them from time to time.

Legacy

The poetry from Cold Mountain has influenced the poets of many generations and cultures. He is especially loved by the Japanese, who know him as Kanzan. Hanshan was a sympathetic and important figure for Beat Generation writers Gary Snyder and Jack Kerouac. In the introduction to his translation which appeared in the Evergreen Review, Snyder wrote of Hanshan, "He and his sidekick Shih-te (Jittoku in Japanese) became great favorites with Zen painters of later days — the scroll, the broom, the wild hair and laughter. They became Immortals and you sometimes run into them today in the skidrows, orchards, hobo jungles, and logging camps of America." Kerouac's The Dharma Bums closes with a vision of Hanshan, and at Snyder's suggestion, Kerouac dedicated the book to the fabled poet.

Source

Wikipedia:Hanshan (poet)