Classic Poem

In the cool of dawn I sought a strange seclusion,
Cast loose my boat and passed through the suburbs and the Wilds,
Past banks of massed orchids the river went flowing rapidly
How remote is this high and mossy peak!
Stone House Mountain rises from a corner of the forest,
A waterfall comes hurtling from its summit
Its vacant flow has gone on for thousands of years;
These sheer heights were not just the work of a day
Nor sight nor sound here of the world of men,
Wind and mist drive away gatherers of wood and herbs.
Though I never could wander off to distant parts,
Since I was a youth I have admired the ascent of Qiao.
In this magic region he has long been hidden,
If only I could meet with my heart's delight!
Of the Tree of Joy I cannot bear to speak,
I pluck a scented frond and play with its cool branches.