Classic Poem

Height — Antiquity

Lo the Immortal, borne by spirituality,
His hand grasping a lotus flower,
Away to Time everlasting,
Trackless through the regions of Space!
With the moon he issues from the Ladle,
Speeding upon a favorable gale;
Below, Mount Hua looms dark,
And from it sounds a clear-toned bell
Vacantly I gaze after his vanished image,
Now passed beyond the bounds of mortality
Ah, the Yellow Emperor and Yao,
They, peerless, are his models.