MTBUI of Wang Wei

The dust of crumbled mountains sticks to my legs. Above me, the sun burns hot and the moon sets over the Pacific beyond the ridgeline and canyons beyond that.

I think of Wang Wei. Dreams of a small cabin away from people breeze through my mind. A quick, rocky shoot down is followed by a quick, rocky, steep up; I grunt and smile.

Escaping with the Hermit Zhang Yin

My brother Zhang has five carts of books.
A hermit, he reads endlessly.
Whenever he soaks his brush with ink he surpasses
the sage of grass calligraphy.
When he writes a poem it makes a classical verse
seem like a throwaway.
Behind closed doors under Two Chamber Mountains,
he’s been a hermit for more than ten years.
He looks like a wild man
pausing with fishermen.
Autumn wind brings desolation.
Five Willows seems taller as their leaves drop.
Seeing all this I hope to leave the peopled world.
Across the water in my small cottage
at year’s end I take your hand.
You and I, we are the only ones alive.

–Wang Wei, translation by Tony Barnstone, Willis Barnstone, and Xu Haixin

I think of the Willows out in the Borrego, and find joy in knowing that I will be back out there in the coming months.

MTB Under the Influence of Wang Wei
MTB Under the Influence of Wang Wei

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