The mountains are whistling:
Jing, jingle-lang, jingle-loo
The spear tips of earth are wreathing,
Like waves, like steadily entangled hips:
Jing, jingle-lang, jingle-loo
Every blade of grass grows and is happy:
The strummers of insects vibrate in
The open throats of flowers:
Jing, jingle-lang, jingle-loo
The sun is a whirligig, a queen dancing with fire,
Rainbows are bathing in waterfalls,
And the unshelled knight is in a vermilion
Tourniquet,
His horse is eating the tart plums
Enveloped in blue midges,
And glamorous shimmers from the water lady’s mirror:
Jing, jingle-lang, jingle-loo
Blushing purple goes the day over the hills,
Down into the channel of hazy valleys-
So brightly, each leaf is burning harmlessly at each tip:
Jing, jingle-lang, jingle-loo
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem