LOOKING OUT AT THE EVENING VIEW ON MOUNT GU AFTER THE RAIN
The mountain begins to awaken, sluggish after such a drunken rain.
A little cold light filters down to this place I'm sitting in.
The unruly fog pulls itself together to clothe the trees in white;
While the setting sun splashes red onto the distant hills.
I hear the wood cutter whistle as he collects his twigs
And the fisherman sing as he pulls in his hooks
And the temple bell ring from way beyond the clouds.
The cranes, startled, flap into flight.