Tu Fu
Written on the Wall at Chang's Hermitage
It is Spring in the mountains.
I come alone seeking you.
The sound of chopping wood echoes
Between the silent peaks.
The stream are still icy.
There is snow on the trail.
At sunset I reach your grove
In the stony mountain pass.
You want nothing, although at night
You can see aura of gold
And silver ore all around you.
You have learned o be gentle
As the mountain deer you have tamed.
The way back forgotten, hidden
Away, I become like you,
An empty boat, floating, adrift.

(from "One Hundred Poems from the Chinese)

transl. by Kenneth Rexroth