Classic Poem

I called for my carriage and went to look at strange rarities,
Hastening on my way I went to the Magic Mountain
In the morning I crossed the shores of a pure stream,
In the evening I rested by the Five Dragon Spring
The Singing-Stone holds a hidden music,
Thunderous and startling, it shakes the Nine Heavens
It is not that there are no such things as Mysterious Transformations,
But that no one knows of the Spontaneity of the Spirits.
Flying mist brushes the blue peaks,
A green torrent washes between the crags
Rinse my hands in the vernal purity of the spring,
While my eyes enjoy the fresh beauty of flowers in the sun.