The days and months flow ceaseless as a stream; Our time is brief as the flash struck on a stone. If Heaven and Earth shift, then let them shift; I shall still be sitting happy among the rocks.23 _ He was a contradictory individual, one minute solemn in his search for Mind, and the next minute a buoyant bon vivant, writing verses that seem almost a T'ang version of our own carpe diem: _Of course there are some people who are careful of money, But not I among them. Because I dance too much, my garment of thin cloth is worn. My bottle is empty, for I spurt out the wine when we sing. Eat a full meal. Don't tire your feet. The day when weeds are sprouting through your skull, You will regret what you have been.24 _ The life he describes for himself is one immersed in poetry. He is the compleat poet, whose only concern is writing (not publishing) verse. _Once at Cold Mountain, troubles cease-- No more tangled, hung-up mind, I idly scribble poems on the rock cliff, Taking whatever comes, like a drifting boat.25 _But if his poems were written on a rock cliff, how then were they preserved? Thereon hangs a tale, or more likely a legend. At some unknown time, Han-shan's verses (some three hundred) were collected and supplied with a "preface."26 The person who takes credit for saving Han- shan from a country poet's oblivion identifies himself as Lu-ch'iu Yin, a high official. As it happens, the T'ang Chinese were very fussy about keeping records on such things as high officials, and a Lu-ch'iu Yin is not remembered among their ranks. Consequently, some have speculated that the author of the preface was in fact a Buddhist priest who wished to remain anonymous. At any rate, according to the story, our official first heard of Han-shan upon becoming ill just before a planned trip to a new prefecture and, after failing to be helped by a doctor, was cured by a wandering priest, who then told him that in the prefecture of his destination he would need further protection from bodily ills. Lu-ch'iu Yin asked him for the name of a master, and the priest told him to be on the lookout for two eccentric-appearing kitchen servants at the Kuo- ch'ing monastery dining hall, named Han-shan and Shih-te. When he arrived at his new post, he immediately sought out this monastery and was amazed to learn the story was true. People around the temple said, "Yes, there is a Han-shan. He lives alone in the hills at a place called Cold Mountain, but he often comes down to the temple to visit his friend, Shih-te. The cook, Shih-te, it turned out, saved leftovers for his friend Han-shan, who would come and take them away in a bamboo tube, merrily laughing and joking along the length of the temple veranda as he carted away his booty. Once the monks caught him and exposed his system, but he only laughed all the more. His appearance was that of a starving beggar, but his wisdom was that of a man of enlightenment.