cold mountain (29)

The darkest wild is the last place you’ll look before turning around and riding straight toward the middle. No deviations to the distant or the near, no confusion about solitude and company. When you walk alone, you tromp with the noise of a thousand horses. When you join hands with a multitude, you all glide forward like the single foot of a ship. Whatever you find at the center-less axis, leave it there undisturbed. Come back to me, come back to me, and come singing a song that threads the miles like an arrow long since shot and gone.

Original Chinese and English translation pp. 54-55 here.


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