Han-Shan sits on a flat stone In his garden and plays the flute, Mimicking the birds singing among The gourd vines or from the top Of the blue pine tree. Or he conttructs a new trellis For the rambling rose over his front Gate or works at the great loom in his porch, Weaving his own coverlets. Sometimes, he paints drinking gourds To hang at his cold spring. His poems, delicate but strong, Paper the ceiling above his bed, So he can lie and read His own masterpieces. No man, he avers, can catch Such fish in one basket. Copyright 2001 by The Modern Poetry Association. This poem appears in the April 2001 issue of @3Poetry Magazine.@1 http://poetrymagazine.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I COULD TAKE by HAYDEN CARRUTH TWILIGHT COMES by HAYDEN CARRUTH FINALITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RETROSPECT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |