At the foot of the falls,
Yellow footbridge leaping
To a narrow footpath
Where my footsteps following go,
Past the little red roofs
With their corners sweeping
Into bristling pines
With their twisted branches of cones.

The scroll unrolls
Under my feet.
Where will this
Painted path of paper
Finally lead?
Everything pulses;
Everything is poised.
This wildness wrestles
With its back
Against the void.

The scroll unrolls
Under my feet.
Where will this
Painted path of paper
Finally lead?

On a bluff clings the brush,
Tiny tiptoes hanging
To the fissured-fist rocks
All upended and overthrown.
And the pillars pile up
To the clouds' soft longing;
Though the ladder grows steep,
My feet keep climbing the stone.

wo deng, wo deng, wo deng
shan shui

wo wang le zi ji
gen wo lai han shang leng qi

The scroll unrolls
Under my feet.
Where will this
Painted path of paper
Finally lead?
Everything pulses;
Everything is poised.
This wildness wrestles
With its back
Against the void.

The scroll unrolls
Under my feet.
Where will this
Painted path of paper
Finally lead?