After rain, the road is quiet, few people in sight,
My noble friend extends a gracious invite.
Dismounting, our talk unfinished, we ride west,
Galloping side by side, our journey blessed.
First, we planned to view the river from the tower,
Then suddenly, we longed to climb the peak's power.
We tread the rugged path, steep and high,
Leave our steeds behind, ascend toward the sky.
Clouds dampen our straw sandals, moist and cool,
Wind flutters our sleeves, as if by a gentle rule.
Vast marshes gleam with green, a mirrored scene,
The distant town lies hushed, no clamor seen.
The river road winds long, a ribbon bright,
Glimmers on the stream, shadows dance in light.
Other hills seem like gathered grains of rice,
Chaotic ridges mimic tides, not once or twice.
I adjust my cap, sigh at my hair's gray plight,
Pat my thigh, lament my flesh's fading light.
I wish to pour my pent-up sorrows out,
But hate my stooped back, filled with doubt.
My heart knows the central peak is near,
Yet my old steps falter, gripped by fear.
We sit on perilous rocks, spread a mat to rest,
Plant our staffs, gaze at crops on the crest.
We watch three scholars leave, our eyes follow their flight,
As green vines climb, reaching heaven's height.
Our elegant gathering soon drifts like cloud,
I sit cross-legged, singing verses aloud.
I answer shouts carried by the wind above,
Listen to woodcutters in the valley's grove.
Mountain spirits might mock our mortal trace,
Valley friends seem like birds in a higher place.
Though separated from immortals, a gap wide,
I feel my spirit soar, with purified pride.
Not like a rat clinging to its gut's despair,
Nor a wren nesting on a branch, unaware.
Evening glow descends on our homeward way,
Flat woods echo with cicadas' lay.
Looking back, all is past, a scene left behind,
Blue mists and smoke linger, vague in the mind.