| 英譯： |
Above T'u-men the climb becomes steep; A mere hairbreadth of a path
winds up and up. The boards and railings high among the clouds
Are firmly propped and supported on the rocks. Thin woods seem to
nestle obliquely in countless gullies; Rushing torrents now and then
gleam out of misty shadows. A pale sun fades above the narrow ravine,
A long wind howls through it. Only after we have halted at the bottom
of the valley, Do we realize we have traversed frightening heights.
Coming or going, travelers will sit or lie down for a rest; For both men
and horses are exhausted.
For every flitting life there is fixed lot, Hunger or no hunger, can one
really escape it? Sighing, I say to my wife and children, "I should not
have followed your advice to take this trip."
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