Classic Poem

The ultimate Tao is nameless;
The ultimate man lives long.
By surveying the range of depicted things
We may seem to deduce his true form.
Square mouth richly glossed with vermilion;
Thick eyebrows brushed with blue.
The bearing of a pine — from stock full blown;
The substance of a crane — by nature weightless.
In the Tao and its force — divinely transcendent;
In his inward store — numinous of heart.
Pink flesh and silky hair;
External blazons floriate and vital.
Complexion as if embodying fragrance;
Aspect like a harmony of lights.
Embryonic — hermetic — fashioning mutations;
Ingesting yin, emitting yang.
I have heard that An Ch'i
Is hidden or visible — unpredictably.
He may be down in our world;
He may be roving up in the expanse of blue.
Vivat! This perfect being!
Could he not be An Chi's later incarnation,
Repeated here those sylphine bones? —
Long to endure without wasting away.
Like moonlight his shining pupils,
Clear-seeing as if just new;
Soft and plump his youthful features,
Fresh and glittering like the spring:
The equal of metal or stone,
Or indelible vermilion and azure.
Were he upon a Heaven-piercing Platform,
To be seen there by ordinary folk,
Even common gentry would regard him with reverence,
Aware that they themselves are shrouded in dust;
While noble men would take his full measure —
Ah, with what reverence! As if a god!