A-eee! Shee-yew! Sheeeeee! So dangerous! So high!
The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing the sky.
Silkworm Thicket and Fishing Duck
Founded their kingdom in the depths of time,
But then for forty-eight thousand years,
No settlers' smoke reached the Qin frontier
Yet west on Taibo Mountain, take a bird road there,
You could cross directly to the peaks of Emei's brow
When earth collapsed and the mountain crashed,
the muscled warriors died.
It was after that when the ladders to heaven
were linked together with timber and stone
Up above is
the towering pillar where six dragons turn the sun
Down below on
the twisting river colliding waves dash into the turns
The flight of a yellow crane cannot cross it;
Gibbons and monkeys climb in despair.
Green Mud Ridge — coiling, winding —
Nine turns in a hundred steps, round pinnacle and snag
Touch the Triad, pass the Well Stars,
look up to gasp and groan.
Press a hand to calm your chest,
sit down for a lingering sigh.
I wonder as you travel west, when will you return?
I fear that a road so cragged and high is impossible to climb
All I see is a mournful bird that cries in an ancient tree,
And cocks that fly in pursuit of hens,
circling through the forest.
Yet again I hear the cuckoo call in the moonlit night —
sorrow upon the desolate mountain.
The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing the sky
Whenever one shall hear this, it wilts his youth away.
Peak after peak missing the sky by not so much as a foot.
Withered pines hang upside-down clinging to vertical walls.
Flying chutes and raging current,
how they snarl and storm!
Pelted cliffs and spinning stones,
ten thousand chasms thunderous roar!
The perils — this is the way they are.
And woe to that man on a road so far —
Oh why, and for what, would he travel here?
Sword Gallery looms above with soaring crags and spines;
One man at the pass,
Ten thousand men are barred
And if the guards are not our people,
They can change into jackals and wolves.
In the morning avoid fierce tigers.
In the evening avoid long snakes
They sharpen teeth for sucking blood;
The dead are strewn like hemp
Let them talk of pleasure in Brocade City,
The better thing is hurrying home.
The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing the sky.
Edging back, I gaze to the west, long and deep my sighs.
The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing the sky.
Silkworm Thicket and Fishing Duck
Founded their kingdom in the depths of time,
But then for forty-eight thousand years,
No settlers' smoke reached the Qin frontier
Yet west on Taibo Mountain, take a bird road there,
You could cross directly to the peaks of Emei's brow
When earth collapsed and the mountain crashed,
the muscled warriors died.
It was after that when the ladders to heaven
were linked together with timber and stone
Up above is
the towering pillar where six dragons turn the sun
Down below on
the twisting river colliding waves dash into the turns
The flight of a yellow crane cannot cross it;
Gibbons and monkeys climb in despair.
Green Mud Ridge — coiling, winding —
Nine turns in a hundred steps, round pinnacle and snag
Touch the Triad, pass the Well Stars,
look up to gasp and groan.
Press a hand to calm your chest,
sit down for a lingering sigh.
I wonder as you travel west, when will you return?
I fear that a road so cragged and high is impossible to climb
All I see is a mournful bird that cries in an ancient tree,
And cocks that fly in pursuit of hens,
circling through the forest.
Yet again I hear the cuckoo call in the moonlit night —
sorrow upon the desolate mountain.
The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing the sky
Whenever one shall hear this, it wilts his youth away.
Peak after peak missing the sky by not so much as a foot.
Withered pines hang upside-down clinging to vertical walls.
Flying chutes and raging current,
how they snarl and storm!
Pelted cliffs and spinning stones,
ten thousand chasms thunderous roar!
The perils — this is the way they are.
And woe to that man on a road so far —
Oh why, and for what, would he travel here?
Sword Gallery looms above with soaring crags and spines;
One man at the pass,
Ten thousand men are barred
And if the guards are not our people,
They can change into jackals and wolves.
In the morning avoid fierce tigers.
In the evening avoid long snakes
They sharpen teeth for sucking blood;
The dead are strewn like hemp
Let them talk of pleasure in Brocade City,
The better thing is hurrying home.
The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing the sky.
Edging back, I gaze to the west, long and deep my sighs.