December 22nd, 2023

The Great Person from time past
Had no fixed abode,
In famed mountains hid his traces,
Grew old amid wind and frost.

From afar,
I know your white-rock hermitage,
Hidden in a haze
Of evergreen trees.

When the moon sets,
It's mind-watching time;
Clouds arise
In your closed eyes.

Just before dawn, temple bells
Sound from neighboring peaks;
Waterfalls hang thousands of feet
In emptiness.

Moss and lichen
Cover the cliff face;
A narrow, indistinct path
Leads to you.

Chia Tao (779-843)