Classic Poem

In the morning with my staff I sought the topmost crag;
In the evening I rested in my mountain nest.
Distant peaks oppose my lofty lodge;
The facing range looks over twisting streams.
A long grove screens the courtyard door;
Tumbled rocks crowd the entry steps.
Interlinking cliffs make one feel the road is blocked;
Dense bamboo makes the paths lose their way.
Arriving guests forget the new-made track;
And departing are misled by an older trail.
Huo-huo the evening torrents rush;
Chiao-chiao the nocturnal gibbons howl.
Deep and darkly sunk in meditation, for what better reason
Than never swerving from holding on to the Way?
My heart interlocks with the hardy trunks of autumn;
My eyes delight in the tender buds of spring.
Living in man's ordinary lot, I await my end;
In the midst of flux at peace with the world.
How I regret there is no like-hearted traveler
With whom to climb the ladder of blue clouds!