Reviews
The Complete Cold Mountain: Poems of the Legendary Hermit Hanshan by Peter Levitt, Kazuaki Tanahashi
spacestationtrustfund's review
3.0
This review is of the translation by Kazuaki Tanahashi and Peter Levitt.
The authors make a good case that the Cold Mountain poet (寒山) was actually multiple people. There's a not-insignificant amount of evidence for this theory. For one, various poems attributed to the poet range in date from the late 6th to the 9th century, so unless the poet should be renamed 神仙,* it's unlikely that there was ever only one singular Cold Mountain poet. Second, and this is where the authors lost me a bit, the content of the poems changes in different time periods: Daoism versus Buddhism, for example. The authors assume that all the Cold Mountain poets were male, although classical Chinese nouns aren't gendered, but it's whatever. Maybe the real Cold Mountain poet was the friends we made along the way.
Anyway. The poems in this collection are separated into three sections: the original poems (ca. late 6th-early 7th century CE), early additions (ca. 7th-8th century CE), and late additions (ca. late 8th-9th century CE). These dates are, of course, rough approximations; it's not known in which century precisely the "original" Cold Mountain poet lived, if at all, although most generally settle on the 7th century CE. There are around 313 poems commonly attributed to the Cold Mountain poet, although the edges of that number are a bit fuzzy. Apart from the three sections of the poems, the authors have included notes, a relevant map, two brief scholarly articles ("Record of the Hanshan Anthology" by Luqiu Yin and "A Study of the Poet" by Kazuaki Tanahashi), a comparative list of poem numbers, and a bibliography. The real value of this particular book, however, is the fact that the original Chinese text of each poem is included alongside its English translation. For example (诗1):
In terms of scholarship I still believe the translation by Robert G. Henricks is the best. Henricks's translation by itself would not be anything special, but the addition of plentiful notes and relevant sources puts it a step ahead of other translations. I have still not found a definitive scholarly English translation, despite looking; I've got a while to go before I decide to just do it myself, don't worry. Tanahashi's and Levitt's translations are excellent, and the fact that they include the original text alongside the English rendition is a major benefit in my opinion (seriously, why are any translations ever being published without the originals included? I genuinely do not understand why).
Another interesting detail I observed is Tanahashi's and Levitt's tendency to make their translations more unspecific instead of more precise, a deviation from the majority of Chinese-English translations. For example (诗15):
I was also interested in Tanahashi's and Levitt's translation of the final line of the poem ("Only books on a single shelf"), which has been translated in quite a few different ways by different translators: Watson says "Only a bed piled high with books"; Henricks says "Nothing more than a bed full of books"; Porter says "a shelf full of nothing but books." So is it a bed or a shelf? Well... both, and neither, technically. The line (唯有一床書) is, character-by-character, "only-have-one-table-book." The problematic word is 床 [chuáng], which, yes, usually refers to a bed, but can also signify anything from the bank of a river to the wall around a well. I personally trend towards saying "shelf" or "table" in this case, although "bed" seems to be more popular, historically speaking, amongst previous translators. Because Tanahashi's and Levitt's translation, published in 2018, is (as far as I'm aware) the most recent translation of the Cold Mountain poems, I'm hoping that this means subsequent translations will apply Occam's razor and say that books probably belong on a shelf. Alternatively, the line could be translated as "there's only one bed... plus some books."
Some poems do include footnotes. For example (诗146):
What's interesting about this is, of course, the last line, which can be translated as "hurry-hurry-like-law-decree"; the last two characters 律令 (laws and decrees) is a reference to the ancient Chinese legal system. I have no idea where the "fast-running demon" came from. Here's how I'd personally translate the poem, character-by-character:
*Immortal.
The authors make a good case that the Cold Mountain poet (寒山) was actually multiple people. There's a not-insignificant amount of evidence for this theory. For one, various poems attributed to the poet range in date from the late 6th to the 9th century, so unless the poet should be renamed 神仙,* it's unlikely that there was ever only one singular Cold Mountain poet. Second, and this is where the authors lost me a bit, the content of the poems changes in different time periods: Daoism versus Buddhism, for example. The authors assume that all the Cold Mountain poets were male, although classical Chinese nouns aren't gendered, but it's whatever. Maybe the real Cold Mountain poet was the friends we made along the way.
Anyway. The poems in this collection are separated into three sections: the original poems (ca. late 6th-early 7th century CE), early additions (ca. 7th-8th century CE), and late additions (ca. late 8th-9th century CE). These dates are, of course, rough approximations; it's not known in which century precisely the "original" Cold Mountain poet lived, if at all, although most generally settle on the 7th century CE. There are around 313 poems commonly attributed to the Cold Mountain poet, although the edges of that number are a bit fuzzy. Apart from the three sections of the poems, the authors have included notes, a relevant map, two brief scholarly articles ("Record of the Hanshan Anthology" by Luqiu Yin and "A Study of the Poet" by Kazuaki Tanahashi), a comparative list of poem numbers, and a bibliography. The real value of this particular book, however, is the fact that the original Chinese text of each poem is included alongside its English translation. For example (诗1):
You ask the way to Cold Mountain,
but the road does not go through.
In summer, the ice is not yet melted,
the morning sun remains hidden in mist.
How can you get here, like I did?
Our minds are not the same.
When your mind becomes like mine,
you will get here, too.
人问寒山道 寒山路不通 夏天冰未释 日出雾朦胧I've already talked about this particular poem over on my review of Burton Watson's translation, but here are some relevant details: There are two noticeable plays on words in this poem, the first of which is in the very first line where the poet says that people ask about the Cold Mountain 道 [dào], whereupon he apparently responds that the 路 [lù] is impassible; the former refers to the Dao as well as a road, and the latter means a literal road. The second is the repetition of 似我 (like me): the first time is when the poet is presumably referencing something said by the other speaker ("how did someone like me make it there?"), and the second is in the final line ("well, maybe if you were like me, you'd know how to get there"). Tanahashi and Levitt technically preserve the 道 vs 路 joke, but it's unlikely that anyone without a prior knowledge of Chinese would understand it, since there are no footnotes provided for the vast majority of the poems, and the few notes that are included are banished to the appendices instead of being in-line footnotes. Which conveniently leads me into the biggest problem I had with this collection: the lack of notes.
似我何由届 与君心不同 君心若似我 还得到其中
In terms of scholarship I still believe the translation by Robert G. Henricks is the best. Henricks's translation by itself would not be anything special, but the addition of plentiful notes and relevant sources puts it a step ahead of other translations. I have still not found a definitive scholarly English translation, despite looking; I've got a while to go before I decide to just do it myself, don't worry. Tanahashi's and Levitt's translations are excellent, and the fact that they include the original text alongside the English rendition is a major benefit in my opinion (seriously, why are any translations ever being published without the originals included? I genuinely do not understand why).
Another interesting detail I observed is Tanahashi's and Levitt's tendency to make their translations more unspecific instead of more precise, a deviation from the majority of Chinese-English translations. For example (诗15):
A country person lives in a thatched-roof hut.
In front of his gate, a horse or cart is rarely seen.
Birds gather in the dark forest,
the broad streams teem with fish.
He takes his child to collect nuts and berries,
and together, he and his wife plough the hilly field.
Inside their hut, what do they possess?
Only books on a single shelf.
茅棟野人居 門前車馬疏 林幽偏聚鳥 溪闊本藏魚Once again I've already dissected this poem in further detail, but the aspect that intrigued me was the third-person limited view. Watson's translation of the same puts the narration in the first person singular ("I pick wild fruit in hand with my child, / Till the hillside fields with my wife," etc.), as does Henricks's ("Mountain fruits, hand in hand my son and I pick; / Marshy fields, together with my wife I plough," etc.); Bill Porter's also uses the third person ("with his son he picks wild fruit / with his wife he hoes between rocks," etc.), and Snyder's does not include this poem. I prefer the third person in this case if for no other reason than the strong probability that the poet was not referring specifically to himself.
山果攜兒摘 皋田共婦鋤 家中何所有 唯有一床書
I was also interested in Tanahashi's and Levitt's translation of the final line of the poem ("Only books on a single shelf"), which has been translated in quite a few different ways by different translators: Watson says "Only a bed piled high with books"; Henricks says "Nothing more than a bed full of books"; Porter says "a shelf full of nothing but books." So is it a bed or a shelf? Well... both, and neither, technically. The line (唯有一床書) is, character-by-character, "only-have-one-table-book." The problematic word is 床 [chuáng], which, yes, usually refers to a bed, but can also signify anything from the bank of a river to the wall around a well. I personally trend towards saying "shelf" or "table" in this case, although "bed" seems to be more popular, historically speaking, amongst previous translators. Because Tanahashi's and Levitt's translation, published in 2018, is (as far as I'm aware) the most recent translation of the Cold Mountain poems, I'm hoping that this means subsequent translations will apply Occam's razor and say that books probably belong on a shelf. Alternatively, the line could be translated as "there's only one bed... plus some books."
Some poems do include footnotes. For example (诗146):
You who read my poems,
protect the purity of your heart—
be more modest with your grasping and greed.
Then, what is crooked will straighten out,
driving away unwholesome deeds.
Just take refuge in your true nature
and you’ll attain a buddha body today
like a fast-running demon!
凡讀我詩者 心中須護淨 慳貪繼日廉 諂曲登時正The number (146) identifying this poem has an asterisk, which leads to the following note at the end of the book: "a fast-running demon: The demon serving the god of lightning and thunder. His name means 'Law' or 'Order.'" Dun dun.
驅遣除惡業 歸依受眞性 今日得佛身 急急如律令
What's interesting about this is, of course, the last line, which can be translated as "hurry-hurry-like-law-decree"; the last two characters 律令 (laws and decrees) is a reference to the ancient Chinese legal system. I have no idea where the "fast-running demon" came from. Here's how I'd personally translate the poem, character-by-character:
all / read / I / poem / person, / heart- / -in / must / protect / pure.The only thing I can think of that would cause the "fast-running demon" mishap is the fact that the line (急急如律令) is, to quote Henricks, "a stock phrase of Taoist incantation said at the end of a chant addressed to spirits and/or demons. The phrase was first used at the end of official documents in the Han [dynasty]. A lü-ling was an order or command (from the emperor) that was written down as a law. A number of Taoist incantations [...] end in this way." Henricks also correctly notes that the character 身 [shēn] refers not only to "body" but also to "life" and is, in this instance, probably referring to "Buddhahood" (Sanskrit buddhatva; Chinese 成佛). Tanahashi's and Levitt's translation sounds sort of like a scam trying to get you to buy diet pills. Are YOU Buddha-body ready?
conserve / greedy / maintain / day / clean, / flatter / crooked / ascend / time / correct.
drive- / -away / eradicate- / -evil / karma, / rely- / -on / endure / true- / -nature.
to- / -day / obtain / Buddha / body or life, / hurried- / -ly / like / law / decree.
*Immortal.
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