Li Po the Chinese Poet
��Then draw a long sigh, his hands on his breast.
Oh, why go you west, I pray? And when will you
return? I fear for you. You cannot clamber over these jutting
rocks. You shall see nothing by day but the birds plaining bit- terly on the aged trees, the female following the
male in their flight; You shall hear no voice but the cuckoos calling in the
moonlight by night, calling mournfully in the
desolate mountains. The road to Shuh is more difficult to climb than to climb
the steep blue heaven. A mere story of it makes the youth's red face grow pale. The lofty peaks shoot up cloudward in rows. If one
foot higher, they would touch the heaven. The dead pine trees cling to the cliff, hanging headmost
over the abyss.
The sparkling cascades and the spurting torrents vie with one another to make the bellowing din.
Anon, a giant boulder tumbles from the crag-head; a thousand mountain walls resound like thunder.
you wayfarers from afar, why do you come hither on this direful road?
The gate of the Sword Parapet stands firm on its fright- ful height.
One man defending it, a thousand men could not break it open.
And the keepers of the gate are not of your kin,
They may turn, I fear, to wolves and leopards. [110]
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