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Dismounted,

We drank to bid you farewell,

I asked: “my friend where are you heading?”

You said,

“Oh nothing is working my way

So be back to the crags on Nanshan, retiring.”

“Go then,

You’ll ask of the world no more,

Ah, days of endless white clouds, unending.”

Fond are my feelings, yet unfeeling I feign

Before our wine cups, we merry-make in vain

So heartful, the candle, our parting it grieves

And in tears it melts, till the sky lights again.

The sun shines

On the incense burner

Releasing purple mist

From afar

I gaze upon the waterfall

That hangs before the ravine

It plunges

Straight down

Three thousand feet

Appearing as

If the milky way

Has fallen from nine heavens