Visiting the Taoist Priest on the Mountain Which Upholds Heaven. — He Is Absent
By Li T’ai-Po
A dog,
A dog barking.
And the sound of rushing water.
How dark and rich the peach-flowers after the rain.
Every now and then, between the trees, I see deer.
Twelve o’clock, but I hear no bell in the ravine.
Wild bamboos slit the blue-green of a cloudy sky,
The waterfall hangs against the jade-green peak.
There is no one to tell me where he has gone.
I lean against the pine-trees grieving.