The mighty hill of Chung-nan is near to Si-an town;
And sloping to the river its skirts go pouring down.
I gaze about.—On every side the white clouds gird the sky.
On near approach no verdant lawns among its masses lie.
The peaks from every point of view their melting out-lines change.
In each ravine the light and shade through many colors range.
And should you wish a house to find where you the night may pass,
They only know who o'er the stream come up to cut the grass.