My two Taoist friends on Lushan
each on a different peak
moving your hands as if they were clouds
washing your hair when the weather turns warm
calling down immortals in the middle of the night
burning incense until it covers the sky
finding the joys of doing nothing up there
being natural and out of touch with the world
such masters of the Tao can't be lured down
but neither can a magistrate find time
I send my respects to your lofty retreats
and hope for a letter of instruction