The Foggy Peaks

Philosophical Vignettes

Mountains and Pines in Spring by Mi Fu

The peaks were barely seen that night—they hid
Among a sea of aster-painted clouds.

The skies were filled with stars that shone like pearls
Strewn on the shoals of treasure-laden isles.

The sage and pupil journeyed on, although
Beholding neither earthly fields below

Nor mountaintops rearing their jagged crests
Into the time-exempted floods above.

“But how are we to make our way, or know
In which directions we should choose to go?”

Questioned the student as he waded through
The unshorn clouds that whirled about their waists.

“How can we find our way out of this world
Master—it seems a tenfold mystery?”

The sage continued through the cloudy flood,
Though he could neither see his feet below

Nor catch sight of the craggy trails that formed
The stair on which they made their slow ascent.

The sage paused solemnly before the clouds—
“There’s only one way to find out,” he said.

“Besides, all that we know are mysteries.”
Like clouds, the sage and pupil drifted on.

David B. Gosselin is a poet, translator, writer, and researcher based in Montreal. He is the founder of The Chained Muse and hosts Escaping the Brave New World.