宿山寺
贾岛
众岫耸寒色，精庐向此分。
流星透疏木，走月逆行云。
绝顶人来少，高松鹤不群。
一僧年八十，世事未曾闻。
Overnight at a Mountain Temple
Chia Tao
Flock of peaks hunched up
and colored cold. The path forks
here, toward the temple.
A falling star flares behind bare trees,
and the moon breasts the current of the clouds.
Few men come to the very top…
One tall pine won’t hold a flock of cranes.
One monk here, at eighty,
has never heard tell
of the “world” down below.
（J.P. Seaton 译）
