Here is a tree older than the forest itself;
The years of its life defy reckoning.
Its roots have seen the upheavals of hill and valley,
Leaves have known the changes of wind and frost.
The world laughs at its shoddy exterior
And cares nothing for the fine grain of the wood inside.
Stripped free of flesh and hide
All that remains is the core of truth.
Han-Shan, Cold Mountain, translated by Burton Watson (London: Jonathan Cape, 1962), p. 67.
….
From the Notebooks, 2010-2020.
Number 31: The Little Storm Outside the Window (April 10, 2014).
