Wandering Up Lo-fu Creek on a Spring Day by Li Po

At the canyon’s mouth, I’m singing. Soon
the path ends. People don’t go any higher.

I scramble up cliffs into impossible valleys,
and follow the creek back toward its source.

Up where newborn clouds rise over open rock,
a guest come into wildflower confusions,

I’m still lingering on, my climb unfinished,
as the sun sinks away west of peaks galore.

translated by David Hinton

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