The ox path I’m on ends in a rabbit trail, and suddenly
I’m facing open plains and empty sky on all four sides.

My thoughts follow white egrets–a pair taking flight,
leading sight across a million blue mountains rising

ridge beyond ridge, my gaze lingering near then far,
enthralled by peaks crowded together or there alone.

Even a hill or valley means thoughts beyond knowing–
and all this? A crusty old man’s now a wide-eyed child!

translated by David Hinton