I climb up to the roots of the streams, Sit and watch the White Clouds pass, Meet the old man of the woods, Talk and laugh, forget to go home. At daybreak I head for Pa Pass. Spring and I together leave Ch ang-an. A woman washes clothes in bright water. The birds at dawn sing in the light.
Boats here are markets.
Mountain bridges cling to treetops. Climbing up, a hundred villages. In the far sun the Two Rivers. But the birdsong s just like my country s. Understanding the depths of landscape, Even here I am never lonely.