A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems/The Waters of Lung-t'ou
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THE WATERS OF LUNG-T'OU
[THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER]
By Hsü Ling [A. D. 507–583]
The road that I came by mounts eight thousand feet:
The river that I crossed hangs a hundred fathoms.
The brambles so thick that in summer one cannot pass!
The snow so high that in winter one cannot climb!
With branches that interlace Lung Valley is dark:
Against cliffs that tower one's voice beats and echoes.
I turn my head, and it seems only a dream
That I ever lived in the streets of Hsien-yang.