Jia Dao Poems
Overnight At Mountain Temple
Massed mountains tower in the cold light,
A simple study facing this sight.
Shooting stars penetrate sparse trees,
The moon saunters toward recoiling mist.
To this summit few visitors come,
No cranes flock to the lofty pines.
Only one eighty year old monk,
Who never hears of worldly affairs.
For Mr. Ling Hu
With hiking stick
he makes good time in the mountains;
asks everyone he meets,
how far is it to Zizhou.
But the Yangzi's
in fact too far by foot;
and the travelers,
feeling for him, all feel for him.