By Yuan Mei
(1716 - 1798)

English version by J. P. Seaton

 

I burned incense, swept the earth, and waited
                              for a poem to come...

Then I laughed, and climbed the mountain,
                              leaning on my staff.

How I'd love to be a master
                              of the blue sky's art:

see how many sprigs of snow-white cloud
                              he's brushed in so far today.‎