Fox Footprints/The Mountains
For works with similar titles, see Mountain.
The Mountains
It is evening.The mountains sit, impenetrable as Buddhas,The light falls upon their foreheadsLeaving their quiet forms and vast robes in darkness.The sky hangs drooping above their headsLike a canopy;The immense earth is awed beneath their feet.Only the lowing of the cows and the calls of the herdboys in the meadowsCome faintly to their ears.