I settled at Cold Mountain a while ago, already it seems like years and years.

Freely drifting, I wander the woods and streams
And sit there, watching things themselves; I am satisfied.
Not many come this far into the mountains,
White clouds sometimes touch and pass, thin grass does for a mattress,
The blue sky makes a good cover, a stone under my head. I am happy

I’ll let heaven and earth go about their changes.

Han Shan, Cold Mountain, poem 12