Classic Poem

The Sea of Zhang swells to the very sky,
And a host of mountains rear up high from the earth
They tell me this place is called Jumble rock,
The charts and classics tell nothing of it
Its sheer overhangs are all frightening,
Great or small, none of the ordinary kind
At once it will reach out to cloudy isles,
Then back up to link with the river of stars
Suddenly jutting up as though in flight,
Then hanging over sharply on the point of falling.
Dawn's glow makes it blush purple and crimson,
And in moonlight it gleams blue and turquoise
On the towering summits fog and rain gather;
Sequestered there, fairies and spirits hide.
Ten thousand yards up a crane's nest hangs,
A gibbon's arm dangles over a thousand-foot drop
When I left home before, seasonal winds moved forth;
By the time I've reached here, the third month has come
Observing this place, I sing my song,
For long I'll imagine the strangeness of its spirits.