Classic Poem

I climbed the Taihang mountain
By the green winding path,
Vegetation like a sea of jade,
Flower-scent borne far and wide
Struggling with effort to advance,
A sound escaped my lips,
Which seemed to be back ere 'twas gone,
As though hidden but not concealed
The eddying waters rush to and fro,
Overhead the great rukh soars and sails;
Tao does not limit itself to a shape,
But is round and square by turns.