Guard nothing. Let the horses run streaming through the open gate. They’ll find feed whether we worry about them or not. Put down the crooked rhythm, the tired march of orders. Hasten nowhere: I am so tired. Hum a song, a lullaby, a tuneless thing I can lie down in. Do not resuscitate. I will not return.
The internet is down, so in lieu of finding a copy of Han Shan’s poems on-line, I wrote today’s poem out myself. Calligraphers will find much lacking in my brushwork, but know I tried my best. The Chinese should be read right to left, top to bottom.
Because of internet problems on my computer, I’m trying to post both words and images from my phone for the first time. Bear with me while I work out the kinks.