The Jade Mountain/An Old Fisherman
AN OLD FISHERMAN
An old fisherman spent the night here, under the western cliff;He dipped up water from the pure Hsiang and made a bamboo fire;And then, at sunrise, he went his way through the cloven mist,With only the creak of his paddle left, in the greenness of mountain and river.. . . I turn and see the waves moving as from heaven,And clouds above the cliffs coming idly, one by one.