Cold Mountain Poem Four by Han-Shan.

Translated by Gary Snyder

.

I spur my hose through the wrecked town,
The wrecked town sinks my spirit.
High, low, old parapet-walls
Big, small, the aging tombs.
I waggle my shadow, all alone;
Not even the crack of a shrinking coffin is heard.
I pity all these ordinary bones,
In the books of the immortals they are nameless.