<Header>
<Author: 岑參>
<Title: 太白胡僧歌　并序>
<Format: 七言古詩>
<Year: 1947>
<BookName: THE WHITE PONY: An Anthology of Chinese Poetry from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, Newly Translated>
<Translator: Robert Payne>
<TranslatedTitle: ODE TO A MONK ON THE TAI-TEI MOUNTAINS>
<BookPage: 184>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
聞有胡僧在太白，
蘭若去天三百尺。
一持楞伽入中峰，
世人難見但聞鐘。
窗邊錫杖解兩虎，
床下缽盂藏一龍。
草衣不針復不線，
兩耳垂肩眉覆面。
此僧年幾那得知，
手種青松今十圍。
心將流水同清淨，
身與浮雲無是非。
商山老人已曾識，
願一見之何由得。
山中有僧人不知，
城裏看山空黛色。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
They say there is a monk on Tai-pei mountains,
Floating like scent, three hundred feet beneath the sky.
Once with his scriptures he hid himself in the middle peak,
And he has scarcely been seen by those who hear the ringing bell.

His metal stick once parted two tigers in a death struggle:
Now it lies against the window. Under his bed a jar contains a dragon.
His clothes were made of weeds and leaves; his ears
Touch his shoulders, and his brow hangs over his face.

No one knows his age. Only the green pines planted
By him cannot be ringed around by ten arms.
His mind is as clear as a flowing river.
His person, like clouds, knows neither right nor wrong.

Once an old man of Shang Shan met him,
But I can find no way through these untrodden heights.
Still in the mountains lives this unknown monk.
The townsmen do not know him: they look in vain to the melting blue sky.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
They say there is a monk on Tai-pei mountains,
Floating like scent, three hundred feet beneath the sky.
Once with his scriptures he hid himself in the middle peak,
And he has scarcely been seen by those who hear the ringing bell.
His metal stick once parted two tigers in a death struggle:
Now it lies against the window. Under his bed a jar Contains a dragon.
His clothes were made of weeds and leaves; 
his ears Touch his shoulders, and his brow hangs over his face.
No one knows his age. 
Only the green pines planted by him cannot be ringed around by ten arms.
His mind is as clear as a flowing river.
His person, like clouds, knows neither right nor wrong.
Once an old man of Shang Shan met him,
But I can find no way through these untrodden heights.
Still in the mountains lives this unknown monk. The townsmen do not know him: 
they look in vain to the melting blue sky.
<End Formatted Translation>