Classic Poem

I face, high over this enchanted lodge, the Court of the Five Cities of Heaven,
And I see a countryside blue and still, after the long rain.
The distant peaks and trees of Ch'in merge into twilight,
And Han Palace washing-stones make their autumnal echoes.
Thin pine-shadows brush the outdoor pulpit,
And grasses blow their fragrance into my little cave.
… Who need be craving a world beyond this one?
Here, among men, are the Purple Hills!