Five Songs from Cold Mountain

Han Shan Text, translated by Bun-Ching Lam


I. Clouds and Waters


Between thousands of clouds and waters

There is a man of leisure.

During the day he roams the green mountains.

At night he sleeps below the cliffs.

Springs and autumns pass as in an instant.

Quietly he lives without the burdens of this earth,

Happily clinging to nothing,

Still as a river in autumn.


II. The Metaphor of Life and Death


To understand the metaphor of life and death

One should compare ice with water.

Water freezes to form ice.

Ice melts back into water.

What has died will become alive.

What lives will return to death.

Ice and water won't hurt each other.

Both life and death are beautiful.


III. When happiness comes by


When happiness comes by

Enjoy it.

There is no time to lose.

Even though one says one hundred years is a lifetime,

No one lasts more than thirty thousands days.

If one only lives for an instant,

Why talk and chatter about money?

The last chapter of the Book of Piety

Tells you in detail how it all will end.



IV. Body or No Body


Is there a body or no body?

Is there an I or not I?

This is what I seriously contemplate,

Sitting above the cliff, while time is forgotten.

Green Grass grows between my feet.

On my head falls the red dust.

I already see people of the world gathering

To offer wine and fruit by my bier.


V. Cold Mountain


Once I arrive at Cold Mountain, all my cares come to a rest.

No more idle thoughts in my heart.

At leisure I write poems on rock murals,

And flow with the current like a boat moored.



Last Love Songs

Percy Bysshe Shelley Text


I. To ---

When passion’s trance is overpast,

If tenderness and truth could last

Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep

Some mortal slumber, dark and deep,

I should not weep, I should not weep.


It was enough to feel, to see,

Thy soft eyes gazing tenderly,

And dream the rest – and burn and be

The secret food of fires unseen,

Couldst thou but be as thou hast been.


After the slumber of the year

The woodland violets re-appear,

All things revive in field or grove,

And sky and sea, but two, which move,

And form all others, life and love.


II. Remembrance

Swifter far than summer’s flight –

Swifter far than youth’s delight –

Swifter far than happy night,

  Are thou come and gone –

As the wood when leaves are shed,

As the night when sleep is fled,

As the heart when joy is dead,

I am left lone, alone.


The swallow summer comes again –

The owlet night resumes his reign – but the wild-swan youth is fain

To fly with thee, false as thou.


My heart each day desires the morrow;

Sleep itself is turned to sorrow;

Vainly would my winter borrow

Sunny leave from any bough.


Lilies for a bridal bed –

Roses for a matron’s head –

Violets for a maiden dead –

Pansies left my flowers be:

On the living grave I bear

Scatter them without a tear

Let no friend, however dear,

Waste one hope, one fear for me..


III. To ---

Music, when soft voices die,

Vibrates in the memory;

Odours, when sweet violets sicken,

Live within the sense the quicken;


Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,

Are heaped for the beloved bed;

And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,

Love itself shall slumber on.


— 1821



Age d’Or:

Arthur Rimbaud Text


Quelqu'une des voix

Est elle angélique

Il s’agit de moi

Vertement s'ex-plique:


Ce mille questions

Qui se ramifient

N'amènent au fond

Qu'ivresse et folie


Reconnais ce tour

si gai si facile

C'est tout onde et flore

et c'est ta famille


Et puis une voix

Est elle angélique

Il s'agit de moi

Vertment s'ex-plique


Et chante à l'instant

En soeur des haleines

D'un ton Allemand

Mais ardent et pleine


Le monde est vicieux

tu dis tu t'etonnes

vis et laisse au feu

l'obscure infortune


Ô jolie chateau

Que ta vie est Claire

De quel age est tu nature princière

De notre grand frère


Je chante aussi moi

multiples soeurs voix

Pas du tout publique

De gloire pudique

environnez moi


Golden Age

It is one of the angelic voices,

It concerns me to explain clearly:


Those thousands of questions which take root

bring in the end only drunkenness and folly.


I recognize this turn of events,

so gay, so easy

It is all waves and flowers,

and this is your family.


And then an angelic voice,

It concerns me to explain clearly:


It sings instantly

as if a sister to breath

with a tone German

but ardent and full.


The world is vicious

you say, you are surprised!

Live! leave to the fire the darkness of the unlucky.


O Lovely castle,

How bright is your life!

To what age do you belong,

Princely nature of our great brother.


I sing also, myself,

multiply the voices of the sisters,

not at all in public,

surround me with modest glory



Ein Alter Tibetteppich

Else Lasker-Shüller Text


Deine Seele, die die meine liebet,

Ist verwirkt mit ihr im Teppichtibet.

Strahl in Strahl, verliebte Farben

Sterne,die sich himmellang umwerben.

Unsere Füsse ruhen auf der Kostbarkeit.

Maschentausendabertausend weit,

Süsser Lamasohn auf Moschuspflanzenthron,

Wie lange küsst dein mund den meinen wohl

Und Wang die Wange buntgeknüpfte Zeiten schon?

An Old Tibetan Carpet

Your soul, which loves mine,

Is woven with it together into a Tibetan carpet.

Ray after ray, in enamored colors,

Stars court each other across the heavens.

Our feet rest on treasures,

Thousands and thousands of threads knotted together.

Sweet young Lama on the throne of musk roses,

How long has your mouth been kissing mine,

cheek to cheek in colorful knitted times?




Heinrich Heine Text


Auf Flügeln des Gesanges,

Herzliebchen, trag ich dich fort,

Fort nach den Fluren des Ganges,

Dort weiß ich den schönsten Ort.

Dort liegt ein rotblühender Garten

Im stillen Mondenschein;

Die Lotosblumen erwarten

Ihr trautes Schwesterlein.

Die Veilchen kichern und kosen,

Und schau!n nach den Sternen empor;

Heimlich erzählen die Rosen

Sich duftende Mährchen ins Ohr.

Es hüpfen herbei und lauschen

Die frommen, klugen Gazell’n;

Und in der Ferne rauschen

Die heiligen Stromes Well’n.

Dort wollen wir niedersinken

Unter dem Palmenbaum,

Und Liebe and Ruhe trinken,

Und träumen seligen Traum.


Lotus Dream

On wings of song,

Lovingly, I carry you forth,

Away, to the banks of the Ganges,

Where I know the most beautiful place.


There lies a red-blooming garden

In the still moonlight.

The lotus flowers await

Their beloved sister.


The violets giggle and cuddle,

And look up into the stars;

Secretly, the roses whisper in each other’s ears

Their fragrant fairy-tales.


The gentle, bright gazelles,

Hop around and listen;

And in the distance murmur

The waves of the holy stream.


There we will lie down,

Under the palm-tree,

Drink of love and peace,

And dream our blessed dream



Conversations With My Soul

Etel Adnan Text


Come along, my

fog, foggy


sky not disappeared,

(and fog),

because of fog horns

O angelic

figure once


not even

dust today,

do not fear

this morning,

where I awoke

Come along

this road

gentle wind

be careful

the years

have gone

Listen, spirit,

ocean, friends

have left

for where there’s

no space,

no scratches,

a window

left alone

don't worry

my love

Fog is no

sign, no


just a passing



Nobody is coming

this night of


The hill is descending

into that night

as slowly

as ever

We forgot the


soft grass


and fear,

always fear.


Days move

like we do,

they're thrown away

down here

where we live


Sweet angels take

us by the hand

when we walk

to the beach,

the beach



Allow me o God

in whom I don’t


to finish this

line, this early evening

I return to the fog

because it is


it has a magnitude

that humans lack, it covers spaces


How lonely

can one become,

thinner than

a dream,

as planted

as a tree


Blood is

no perfume,

but in some

cities it

flows freely


Yes, the fog

is ominous,

faithful companion, unifier of



Movies live

live fast, they end, then


we are a


nothing else


A year of railroad

tracks, of earthquakes,

the will is tired

Death moves in

like a soft





of dread


You, you  hover, hover above

my impoverished


but we can't return

to where we started


In a city stressed

by the light

unredeemable, A lover


on the body,

on memory


The sea is not

deep enough to

contain the hour

that just went



We are undone by

beauty's effect on

the arteries

its carnivorous


its solitude


my soul,

nights are long when you’re


Forget that you

inhabit my limbs,

Try to


Don't worry,

sit down, my


I'll close the



Fear me not,

I may leave you


which one of us will descend

first into


we're at a loss


The fog has entered

my nostrils

in this blind street

Not a single leaf

is left over my heart to

be peeled off

everything is


Devastating for the

spirit, always,

is the next wave.

The one coming from you and in front of me,


Let the fog in,

  The one coming from you

  and covering

my soul with your substance,

your destiny


Sit, sit  in front

of me

sit, we're used to seeing

through the dark


In the nights of

her absence

my body

was waiting,

for her soul


We know fog over matter,

Fog in stupefaction


my body was at odds,

odds, odds,

with yours,

breaking down


  We can’t make up

  for lost time

  how can we?

  You’re no more.

  This thing that I am--

  dear soul—

  will decompose,

  we know,

where would you go


happiness happiness came from it,

not from divinities


There's malady in

the air

the waters are temporarily

exalting the


The coffin went


the alley,

death is simply the

end of meaning.

As my body thinks


what's left for you,

if not this love,

so ancient in

difficulty ,Oh why?

I want to take you,

my soul,

to the

largest rivers


listen - think

how fast that river was


the rock is granite,



gasping for



lines of cockroaches

leaving the basement

for our beds

the father holding

a burning





The fog is

moving in with



Her body will not

return to mine

and I will not return


The multiplicity of

the love and the lie

has been

the knife of

my undoing,



along the road


It rains on my


fear has settled.


O my soul, am

I you?

when I'm talking to you

it's because I think you

will listen,

knowing you might not…


but the involvement with

you, is



every window thinks of

itself as being an



CONNECT with Bun-Ching Lam



Navona Records offers listeners a fresh taste of today's leading innovators in orchestral, chamber, instrumental, and experimental music as well as prime pieces of classic repertoire. Our music is meticulously performed by the finest musicians and handpicked to ensure the most rewarding listening experience.



223 Lafayette Road

North Hampton NH 03862



press (at) parmarecordings.com

603.758.1718 x 151