With Mao and Fang, Visiting Bright-Insight Monastery
It's enough on this twisting mountain to simply stop,
Clear water cascades down rock, startling admiration,
White cloud swells of itself across ridgelines, east and west,
And who knows if the lake's bright moon is above or below?
It's the season black and yellow millet both begin to ripen,
Oranges, red and green, halfway into such lovely sweetness.
All this joy in our lives, what is it but heaven's great gift?
Why confuse the children with all our fine explanations?
-written by Su Tung-p'o, 1037-1101
Translated by David Hinton, 2005
in 'Mountain Home, The Wilderness Poetry of Ancient China'
