Classic Poem

The long night drags on and on —
will the cold cock never crow?
I am traveling in the wilds,
my hat-strings frosted with dew.
Tigers and wildcats howl beside the road;
bears and grizzlies lumber back and forth.
In front of me, ghosts whistle loudly;
behind me, skunks and weasels cry.
I look all around — deserted, no one there;
the Northern Dipper hangs high and bright.
The Way of Heaven, truly deep and far:
my heart trembles in useless fear.