clothe their backs or fill their bellies. This is my second consolation.

In the autumn of last year I visited Lu Shan[6] for the first time.
Reaching a point between the Eastern Forest and Western Forest Temples,
beneath the Incense-Burner Peak, I was enamoured by the unequalled
prospect of cloud-girt waters and spray-clad rocks. Unable to leave
this place, I built a cottage here. Before it stand ten tall pines and a
thousand tapering bamboos. With green creepers I fenced my garden; with
white stones I made bridge and path. Flowing waters encircle my home;
flying spray falls between the eaves. Red pomegranate and white lotus
cluster on the steps of the pond. All is after this pattern, though I
cannot here name each delight. Whenever I come here alone, I am moved to
prolong my stay to ten days; for of the things that have all my life
most pleased me, not one is missing. So that not only do I forget to go
back, but would gladly end my days here. This is my third consolation.

Remembering that not having had news of me for so long, you might be in
some anxiety with regard to me, I have hastened to set your mind at rest
by recording these three consolations. What else I have to tell shall be
set out in due order, as follows....[7]

Wei-chih, Wei-chih! The night I wrote this letter I was sitting at the
mountain-window of my thatched hut. I let my brush run as my hand willed
and wrote at hazard as my thoughts came. When I folded it and addressed
it, I found that dawn had come. I raised my head and saw only a few
mountain-priests, some sitting, some sleeping. I heard the mournful
cries of mountain apes and the sad twitterings of valley birds. O friend
of all my life, parted from me by a thousand leagues, at such times as
this “dim thoughts of the World”[8] creep upon me for a while; so,
following my ancient custom, I send you these three couplets: