细草微风岸，危樯独夜舟。

星垂平野阔，月涌大江流。

名岂文章著，官应老病休。

飘飘何所似？天地一沙鸥。

Writing of my feelings ,Traveling by night

Slender grasses, breeze faint on the shore;

Here, the looming mast, the lonely night boat.

Stars hang down on the breadth of the plain,

The moon gushes in the great river's current.

My name shall not be known from my writing,

Sick, growing old, I must yield up my post.

Wind-tossed, fluttering—what is my likeness?

In Heaven and Earth, a single gull of the sands.

《寒山自述诗》

时人见寒山，各谓是疯颠。

貌不起人目，身唯布裘缠。

我语他不会，他语我不言。

为报往来者，可来向寒山。

When men see Han Shan

They all say he is crazy

And not much to look at—

Dressed in rags and hides

They don't get what I say

And I don't talk their language

All I can say to those I meet

" Try and make it to Cold Mountain.”