Once, my back wedded to the solid cliff, I sat silently,...

Once, my back wedded to the solid cliff,
I sat silently, bathed in the full moon's light. I counted there ten thousand shapes,
None with substance save the moon's own glow. The pristine mind is empty as the moon,
I thought, and like the moon, freely shines. By what I knew of moon I knew the mind,
Each mirror to each, profound as stone.

Encounters With Cold Mountain, tr. Peter Stambler, Foreign Languages Press, Beijing, (1996).

Once, my back wedded to the solid cliff, I sat silently, bathed in the full moon's light. I counted there ten thousand shapes, None with substance...

Once, my back wedded to the solid cliff, I sat silently, bathed in the full moon's light. I counted there ten thousand shapes, None with substance...

Once, my back wedded to the solid cliff, I sat silently, bathed in the full moon's light. I counted there ten thousand shapes, None with substance...

Once, my back wedded to the solid cliff, I sat silently, bathed in the full moon's light. I counted there ten thousand shapes, None with substance...