At Seven Mile Rapids
A light boat, one lone leaf,
a startled swan, two oars.
Water and sky are pure Clarity, reflecting deep.
Waves smooth, fish roil this duckwood mirror,
And egrets dot misty shorelines.
We breeze past sandy streams,
frostfall streams cold,
Moonlight streams aglow.
Ridge above ridge, like a painting.
Bend beyond bend like a screen.
Here I think back to Yen Zi Ling's empty old age,
Lord and recluse, one dream.
Renown's empty then as now.
Just mountains stretching away,
Cloud mountains erratic,
Dawn mountains green.
-- Su T'ung Po (1037-1101), translated by David Hinton, in 'Mountain Home: The wilderness poetery of Ancient China', page 226, published 2014.
