The Jade Mountain/After Missing the Recluse on the Western Mountain

by Qiu Wei

Ch'iu Wêi

為　邱

AFTER MISSING THE RECLUSE
ON THE WESTERN MOUNTAIN

To your hermitage here on the top of the mountainI have climbed, without stopping, these ten miles.I have knocked at your door, and no one answered;I have peeped into your room, at your seat beside the table.Perhaps you are out riding in your canopied chair,Or fishing, more likely, in some autumn pool.Sorry though I am to be missing you,You have become my meditation—The beauty of your grasses, fresh with rain,And close beside your window the music of your pines,I take into my being all that I see and hear,Soothing my senses, quieting my heart;And though there be neither host nor guest,Have I not reasoned a visit complete?. . . After enough, I have gone down the mountain.Why should I wait for you any longer?