Classic Poem

Climbing high, sadly I gaze at the Mountain of
Eight Immortals:
those trees of jade and cinnabar cliffs
I've never been able to ascend.
I do not expect to meet Yellow Stone
and get the mystic charm;
I would settle for using the mighty treasure
to hold the face of youth!
There is but one flaw in this floating life of ours
and that is death!
The dusty world affords no means
of knowing ninefold elixir.
Basically I am like the chickens and dogs
of the Prince of Huai,
except I did not follow him to heaven—
I fell back to the world of men.